


Save Me, Save You

by newnumbertwo



Category: Major Crimes/Buffy/Angel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newnumbertwo/pseuds/newnumbertwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharon goes to a bar to celebrate the good day she had at work, and she crosses paths with someone about to endure yet another apocalypse...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lanalucy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/gifts), [Thanks for everything with this one. *hugs*](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Thanks+for+everything+with+this+one.+%2Ahugs%2A).



Title: Save Me, Save You  
Fandoms: Major Crimes/Buffy/Angel  
Pairing(s)/Characters: Sharon Raydor/Spike, Rusty, Angel, Flynn, Illyria  
Rating: T (This chapter)  
Word count: ~1500  
Disclaimer: don't own them.  
Summary: Sharon goes to a bar to celebrate the good day she had at work, and she crosses paths with someone about to endure yet another apocalypse...  
A/N: The beginning of the fic is set post "Death Warrant" of The Closer and during Not Fade Away of Angel. After that, it jumps to the present time of Major Crimes and post-canon for Spike.  
A/N2: Many thanks to [](http://lanalucy.livejournal.com/profile)[**lanalucy**](http://lanalucy.livejournal.com/) for the beta. *hugs*

“You look right pleased with yourself,” a bleached-blond stranger said in a British accent.

Blue eyes gazed at her with...interest. He looked like Billy Idol, only younger, thinner and with better defined muscles, at least from what she could see beneath his black leather duster. Why was he dressed like that in the middle of an LA summer? Whatever the reason, it certainly completed the look of...cool. So why was he speaking to her? He took the seat next to her at the bar. He seemed intent on remaining there, his eyes focused more on her than his drink.

She nodded. “I am a little, yes.”

“Surprised you’re not in a classier bar.”

She snorted. Was that a pick-up line? A variation of the old ‘what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’ “I don’t go to bars often. But this seemed as good a place as any.”

It wasn’t really. It was a dive. But she’d come in feeling….like she could take on the whole world. It wasn’t rational, but she was enjoying it anyway. The...bikers were pretty harmless so far, and they were all keeping their distance. Well, they were since one man had gotten close enough to catch a glimpse of her gun - and badge. He had backed away, quietly, muttering something about not wanting any trouble. There was something about her alleged frigidity too - she was cursed and blessed with good hearing, but it had its uses in her line of work. So, the city ruffians were keeping their distance. In that sense, it wasn’t much different from her life with the LAPD. The beer was...well, it was beer. She wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but her day seemed to warrant further celebration than her usual glass of Riesling at home.

He nodded his assent. “They let me read my poetry earlier, at least.” He glanced around to gesture at the men at the other end of the bar. “I feel a bit at home with this crowd.”

She profiled him a bit. A biker-poet was unusual indeed. At least it seemed so to her. “You write poetry?”

“Not for a long time. Angel, the wretch, stomped it out of me. I was just reciting my old ones.”

She turned to face him. “Angel? Is she your girlfriend, or ex, rather?”

He snorted. “Angel is a he. Although I can see your mistake. Awful fancy-boy former mentor and an all around pain in the ass. And no, for the record, we never dated.”

She laughed. “Let me guess - he’s a co-worker.”

He frowned slightly. “I guess you could call him an associate. He’d tell you he’s my boss, but no one bosses old Spike around. I’m my own man now.”

“Spike? Is that your name?”

“It’s not my given name, if that’s what you’re wondering. I was William. Then Angel said I needed a better name and Dru started calling me Spike.” He shrugged. “It suits me.”

She gave him her full smile. “Well, Spike, I’m Sharon.”

He flashed her his smile. It must have gotten him far in these...situations in the past. And certainly wasn’t hurting him at that moment. “A copper if I ever saw one.”

“Does it really show?” Not that she minded, but she didn’t think she could be _spotted_ for a cop. Not when she was wearing jeans and a knitted top, anyway. As far as she was concerned, she looked...casual, at least as casual as she was capable of being.

“Don’t worry, luv. You have a way of carrying yourself. It’s probably why I came over here.”

She nodded. She did have a way of carrying herself. She always had; working in a field that wasn’t kind to women until recently--and even now was far from perfect--had made her….strong. “I had a good day today.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“You really want to hear?” She raised a brow. It wasn’t normal for her to connect with a stranger, especially not one like Spike. And certainly not one who looked like _him_.

“Let’s just say, talking to you will be the highlight of my day. I could use a bit of good news before...”

“Before what?”

“Before the end.”

He said that so quietly, almost in a whisper. He was sad and...frightened about something.

If speaking to him would do him a service, she was willing to do that - and more. She told him about her work as the department’s “hall monitor.” He snorted at that. “You look like a rule follower.”

Only he didn’t say it like it was a bad thing. Just like it was part of who she was and that he understood it. She hmmed. “You have no idea.”

She went on to describe the car chase, her first in years, and how it had ended with her shooting a man between the eyes with a beanbag gun. How the Major Crimes division had looked at her with a kind of respect for the first time...ever.

“They sound like the Scooby gang,” he said with disdain.

“Scooby gang?”

“A bunch of self-righteous do-gooders. I associated with them for a time, but I was never part of them.”

She snorted. That sounded a lot like the Major Crimes division. “Is your ‘scooby gang’ run by a petite blonde woman who thinks she knows everything?”

He looked at her as if she were a clairvoyant, or one of those mystical beings she didn’t believe in. “Why, yes. Do you know her?”

She laughed. The wonders never ceased. “I think we have a good bit in common, my friend.”

“Well, I know that. That’s why I came over in the first place.”

For a pick-up line, it had an almost disturbing layer of...truth. Time to up the ante. She laid her hand on his knee. It was a bold move for her, but she was old enough to handle the consequences - he’d either fold or hold - and she was fine with either outcome. “I told you mine; now it’s your turn.”

“I’m beginning to like this game, luv. Too bad I don’t have more time to play.”

It wasn’t an escape line. She _was_ his escape. A temporary release from the stresses of working with Angel. Whatever their _work_ was, it wasn’t like hers. It wasn’t something he could leave behind when he went home. Not like she was able to do.

“How long do you have?”

“Another hour or so before I have to meet Angel.”

She raised a brow. “What do you do exactly?”

He smirked. “I knew you’d be smart. Cautious. Your training and occupation, I imagine.”

“And years of disappointment and lies.”

He nodded. “I won’t lie to you. Telling you won’t hurt anything. Not that you’d believe me.”

He didn’t mention disappointment, but she knew they wouldn’t be acquainted long enough for that to be a possibility. Plus, she had faith he wouldn’t. He held...too much promise.

She squeezed his knee. “Try me.”

He laid his hand on her thigh. She could feel the pressure but not _him_. He leaned toward her and said, “Let’s get out of here” into her ear.

She nodded. It had been inevitable, decided from the moment he sat down. “Where?”

“Your place.”

“And then you’ll leave?”

“I don’t have a choice, luv.”

She hmmed. “I know.”

She paid her tab. The bartender nodded in Spike’s direction. “Be careful with that one. Seems dangerous.”

She smiled. “I’m counting on it.”

Spike beamed at her, and she took his hand. It was...cold. And there was no...pulse. But she didn’t let go of him. She squeezed his hand tighter, trusting that he would tell her everything she needed to know.

When they got outside, she let go of his hand. He shot her that smile. “It’s all right, luv. I don’t bite.” He widened his smile. “Not unless you want me to.”

She laughed at his levity and smacked his arm. It was...solid. Whatever he was, his presence...he was...real. Maybe the realest thing in her life at the moment.

He shrugged. “As long as you’re sure. Not everyone wants to sleep with a vamp, you know.”

A vampire. That was the name. The label. It explained a lot but not everything. Like why she wasn’t running from him.

“You’re not afraid of me. Not even a bit. Curious, attracted, sympathetic, and a bunch of other conflicting emotions, but not fear.”

“No.”

He put his hands on her shoulder and placed his mouth against her ear. “I’m gonna show you my world, luv. Before they take it away.”

And there it was. Something was happening to this...man. That night. Something bigger and stronger than a vampire (or two, as it seemed likely Angel was one as well) could handle. Something that perhaps she needed to prepare for too but couldn’t. And what did it matter? If a...champion was afraid for his life, what hope did anyone have?

"Show me, Spike."

He walked her to her car. She gave him basic directions to her place, but she waited as he went to his car, leading the way once he turned on his lights.


	2. Chapter 2

He followed closely. It was one of the few times he did so when the followee wanted him to. He grinned. He’d read her right after all. She was interested...in him, in his world. He hadn’t planned on picking up anyone that night, knowing it wasn’t right to start anything he couldn’t finish. Truly, he’d just wanted to read his “bloody awful” poetry and throw back some pints. But then _she_ had walked in. 

She’d sat at the bar like she belonged there. Like it didn’t occur to her how out of place she was. Everyone had known to give her a wide berth, too. At least after that first fool had gotten too close to her. He didn’t know what she’d said or done, (whatever it was, she’d done it quietly) but no one else had bothered her until his approach. She had...power. It wasn’t something she was aware of, but it existed, and he was...drawn to it. It wasn’t supernatural, just _her_. 

She led him to a high rise in one of the nicest parts of the city. He hoped that meant she would have some protection or insulation from whatever Wolfram and Hart and their bloody senior partners would unleash upon the world, but he doubted it, and as a cop, especially one with her obvious skill, she would be the second line of defense (with Angel and his lot as the first line). He pulled into the car park next to her spot, turning to see her exiting her car and walking his way. She felt _it_ too. He pulled her to him. “I wasn’t sure you really wanted me to follow.”

She gave him that coy smile. “You promised to show me your world. How could I pass that up?”

“Right.” 

Then he lowered his mouth to hers, and she met him halfway. She was so...different. They were going to have fun. When their lips met, her eyes widened, probably the sensation of kissing a dead man, but she warmed up soon enough. 

She broke for air as he watched her, listened to her breathe. Such a simple act, but it was something he didn’t need to do. She caught his eye. “What?”

“You’re just...so alive.”

She beamed at him. “You know, Spike, I feel more alive right now than I have in years.” She stroked his cheek. “Thank you for that.”

They were both clinging to life. To something to live for. Her job with the department that treated her badly. Maybe if he lived long enough, he’d pay them a visit. Not that she needed it, but he wanted to do something for her. The people in her life didn’t seem to _know_ her like he did. They didn’t see the...warmth and compassion. They just saw the...persona - the aloof woman at the biker bar. 

He ran his fingers through her hair. “Ready to go inside?”

She nodded, guiding him through the door and into the lift. The doorman barely looked up but issued a curt greeting, “Captain.” 

“A fan of yours?” Spike asked when the lift doors closed behind them. 

“He’s just rude. His predecessor was a kindly old man. Knew everyone who lived here. Talked to us.” She sighed. “This one. He just wants to punch in and punch out.”

They arrived at her floor, and she led him to a door, opening it. He kissed her earlobe. “You have to invite me in first.”

She moaned. “You mean that’s true?”

“Afraid so. It’s a nifty protection for most folks, but it gets in the way when a bloke’s trying to do a bit of good. Oh, and I should add once I’m invited, I can come and go as I please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” She smirked. “I invite you into my home, Spike. But please knock when you wish to visit.”

“Ladies first.” He held the door open for her, and she shot him a grin before walking in. He followed her inside; as she hit the light switch, he closed the door. The overwhelming presence of _her_ was evident immediately. “Lovely place, pet.” 

When he stepped farther into the condo, the first thing he noticed was the artwork. There were paintings and prints all over. There had to be at least thirty. They were especially concentrated behind her desk, but the walls of the hallway had them too. “You dig art, I guess.”

She nodded. “A bit of a hobby of mine. I used to paint some - nothing great or anything. It was just--” 

“A way to relieve stress.”

She sighed. “Now I’m happy just to go to the museum occasionally, but I have a lot of pride in my collection.”

“It’s very...you.” 

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think so.” He stroked her cheek.

She hmmed. He liked that sound even more than her laugh. With his super developed sense of hearing, the sound seemed to thrum through him. It felt...good. 

She went to the couch, stopping to toss her bag on the side table. It looked like that was something she did every evening: Put her work away, relax for the night. Then she sat down. She picked up the throw pillows and tossed them on the end tables. 

He snorted. “As lovely as they are, I’m glad you did that.”

“Hmm. Me too.” 

_That_ sound again. He could probably get off on that alone. Too bad they wouldn’t have time to test that theory. He sat next to her, and she slipped her feet out of those pumps - which she’d probably been wearing when she’d shot that bloke - and placed them in his lap. He’d never really been a “foot guy” but she did have nice feet. Pretty. Clean. Well pedicured. 

Since they were in his lap and everything, it made sense to massage them. The sounds coming out of her indicated it was the right move. So he kept going. 

As he kneaded her foot muscles, she looked at him with...he couldn’t describe the various thoughts and feelings flowing across her face and within her brain. “Tell me about yourself,” she said. 

“This will have to be the abridged version, luv.” 

She nodded. “I know you’re probably older than I, so I expect it’s a long story.”

“Yeah, 150 years long.” He cleared his throat and began. “I was a real boy once with a beating heart and everything. My mother...she was a wonderful woman, the only person who liked my bloody awful poetry. She was dying, and I knew it.”

She stroked his arm. “That’s a terrible feeling.”

He nodded. After all those years, losing his mother was still...tough. “Anyway, I went out one night and I met a girl. And she was really...well, she was a bit batty, but I didn’t care.” He gave a small smile. Dru and he had some...good times together, and he would never forget that. “I think I loved her immediately.”

“And she turned you?”

He gazed at her and squeezed her foot tenderly. “Very good, yes. And then I returned to my mother. You see, I wanted to live my eternity with the two women I loved most.”

She nodded her understanding. Didn’t she know what he meant? Or perhaps she did. Sharon loved...intensely, like he did. Maybe she understood the...possibilities. “I turned her, but then she...was different. She said terrible things, so I...I staked her. I killed my own mother. Twice.”

She stroked his cheek. This was a police officer he was confessing to. Did it matter his crimes were over a century old and in another country? She simply kept soothing him. 

“Anyway, that was the beginning of the end for me. My grandsire Angelus.” He snorted. “He goes by Angel now. Trying to distance himself from his awful past. Anyway, Angelus taunted me. Shagged Dru in front of me. Made fun of my name, my poetry, even my appearance. And I kept trying to live up to his image of vampire. But then something strange happened.”

“What?”

“Angelus got his soul. It was part of a curse. He killed a gypsy girl and her family made him pay for it. Dearly. So, he didn’t want to play with us anymore, and then I started leading the raids, and by that point, I’d become known as Spike because of my use of railroad spikes against my victims.” She let out a small cry of shock. “Sorry, pet. I don’t mean to upset you.”

She waved him off. “I wanted to hear. And I’m grateful you’re telling me.”

“Anyway, I killed my first slayer.”

“Slayer?”

“Yeah, every generation there’s one girl in all the world born with the power to hunt and kill the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.”

Her eyes lit up, like she was putting the pieces together. “You say that as if you’ve said it a hundred times before. Does it have any connection to the Scoobies?”

He nodded. “Yes, Buffy was the leader of the Scoobies. She was supposed to be my third slayer. Instead--”

“You fell in love with her.”

“Yeah. But not right away. I went to Sunnydale to kill her. Then I met up with her boyfriend, Angel, and I fought against them. And then Angel lost his soul, and joined my team, but he was a bit of a loon, so I sided with Buffy, and it was a pretty big mess. She saved the world. Yada, yada, yada. I was with Dru, but she dumped me. And I returned to Sunnydale, became a military experiment, couldn’t hunt humans anymore, joined forces with Buffy, fell for her, tried to attack her, felt bad about it, and decided to get my own soul back.” 

She seemed to...take it all in. There was no judgement in her face, just acceptance. Not quite understanding, but...empathy. “And Buffy?”

He nodded slightly. “We parted on good terms.”

“And now you work with Angel, and you’re going to save the world tonight?”

“I hope so. We may actually end it in the process.”

“Let’s hope you don’t.”

He reached across to stroke her hair. “You...give me hope.”

She gave him the smile that said she was ready for anything. “I invite you in, Spike.”

He snorted. “You did that already, luv.” 

She grinned. “I didn’t think another time would hurt.”

“Not at all.” And then he was on her, his mouth and hands were everywhere. He couldn’t get enough of her. And she...responded. He pulled back to look at her. “You sure you’re okay shagging a vamp?”

She hmmed. “Are you okay sleeping with a married woman?”

That was a new development. Not that he was surprised. A woman like her would have been snatched up. Some lucky bugger too. There were probably a few kids with her hair and eyes. Only he didn’t smell anyone on her. Just himself and _her_. He smirked. “I think I can live with it.”

He lowered his head down to hers. “Where’s the lucky bugger anyway?”

“Las Vegas, as far as I know.”

He kissed her. “Long time apart then?”

She moaned. “Decades.”

He nipped her collarbone. “You’re sounding like me, luv.”

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her. Possessive she was. He liked that. Made him feel...wanted. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” 

He was happy to comply.


	3. Chapter 3

His face felt...cold against her skin. The sensation juxtaposed the heat she felt - the heat that had been missing for years. And he was...thorough. Considering how little time they had, he wasn’t rushing, kissing her mouth, kissing, licking, and nipping along her jaw and down to her collarbone. All the while, his hands were...everywhere.

She shivered.

“I’ll warm up before long, luv,” he said into her ear. 

_Oh, god!_ She moved her hands to the front of his coat. As good as it looked on him, it had to go. She needed more of...him. 

He pulled back a bit, helping her shuck off his coat. When they got his arms out of the sleeves, he shook it off, and tossed it on the floor. She giggled. “Are we in a hurry?”

He shrugged. “It’s been through worse.”

She ran her hands along his chest. She had been right before: His muscles were so defined. His shirt was like another layer of skin. She lowered her hands to the hem of his shirt and started lifting it up. He chuckled and helped her. 

Once his shirt was off, he lay back down, covering her body with his. His fingers traveled up the inside of her top. “My turn, luv.”

His cold fingers felt so...good against her chest. “Oh, god, Spike.”

He unsnapped the front clasp of her bra, his hands kneading her freed breasts. She moaned as her fingers went to work on his belt buckle. 

His thumb and forefinger pinched her left nipple. The sensation was...overwhelming. He returned his hands to her shirt hem and started pulling it up. She lifted up her body to assist him. They got the top over her head, and he threw it near his coat. 

She felt the heat of his gaze. “Beautiful,” he said before flicking her nipple with his tongue. 

She wrapped her hands around his head, holding him...there. “Yes, Spike.”

His hands moved from around her breasts to the button of her jeans. He lifted his mouth from her breast. She moaned in protest. He chuckled. Those blue eyes peered into her green ones as she still held his head, though much looser. “Trust me, luv.” He smirked. “There’s so much more I could do.”

“I have no doubt.”

He moved back onto his knees, so he could dip his tongue into her navel. His hands played with the top of her jeans more...insistently. She covered his hands with her own and helped him. His tongue followed their path. She lifted her hips, as he pulled them down and off. 

Then he climbed up her body. She groaned. _God, I could kill him_.

His eyes held amusement as he kissed her mouth, his tongue imitating what she hoped he would be doing later. He licked her ear before saying, “I think we should take this to a...roomier venue, luv.”

 _That_ sounded like a good idea. He crawled off her and stood up, offering his hand. She took it, and he helped her stand. She followed him… “Spike?”

“I can smell it, luv.” 

_Oh_. His nose led them to her room - quicker than she would have if she’d directed them. When he opened the door, he pulled her inside. Closer to him. “Ready, luv?”

She hmmed in the affirmative. She couldn’t get much more _ready_. 

He picked her up and dropped her on the bed. The impact caused her to bounce a few times before he joined her. 

He crawled up her body, nuzzling her with his nose and mouth. She giggled at the feel of his cold nose against her. “What are you doing?”

He pulled his head up from between her breasts and peered into her eyes. “I want to remember your scent.”

“My scent?”

“Oh, yes.” He nipped her earlobe. “The smell of your faded perfume after such a long day.”

She moaned. He was right: While she _had_ stopped home to change, she had forgone the application of more perfume. She hadn’t thought she was interested in picking anyone up. He sucked her neck. It was good to be wrong. She ran her hands through his hair. Then she wrapped them around his head, as he nipped her neck some more before moving down to her chest. She held onto him. 

“The subtle hint of perspiration after your day’s excitement.”

He wanted to remember...her sweat? Okay. Just as long as he continued what he was doing to her breasts with his mouth and nose. 

“And your reaction to me.” He licked her cleavage. “You’re so responsive, and you don’t even know it.” 

She moaned his name. 

“You’re ready.” 

“More than ready.” She pulled her hands away from his head and brought them to the front of his jeans. 

He chuckled. “We’ll get there, luv.” He crawled down her body. His fingers reached under the elastic of her panties. “There’s something else I want to try first.” 

That sounded okay too. More than okay. He slowly pulled down the black lace. She helped him as he shimmied them down her legs. 

Then he dove in nose first. Next, he lapped up her...juices. She moaned. And he looked up at her from between her legs. “If I could manufacture your scent, luv, I’d be rich.”

She felt a blush creep up. “I don’t know about that.”

“Trust me, pet, you’re...delicious.”

“Well, I believe turnabout is fair play, so…”

He crawled up her body to claim her mouth. “By all means, Captain,” he said when they came up for air - or when she did, rather. 

He lay on his back by her side. His posture completely open and vulnerable. “Spike, honey, you’re the delicious one.” 

He met her eyes. “I see a huntress in you, luv.” The sound was a cross between a moan and a purr. 

She wanted more of it. More of him. She straddled his legs, reaching for his belt buckle. He lay there...waiting...for a few seconds, and then he was playing with her breasts. “I love these. The way they fit in my hands.” 

He flicked her nipples, and her eyes rolled back. She yanked the belt through the loops and tossed it on the floor. He chuckled. “I love the intensity. So sexy.” He flashed her his million dollar grin. “Especially from this vantage point.”

The heat of his gaze made her believe him. Nonetheless, gravity and age had been working against her. 

He stroked her cheek. “Don’t hide from me, luv.”

She covered his hand with hers. “I’m right here. Gravity and all.”

“That’s what I need.”

She released his hand, and he resumed cupping her breasts. His hands were...warming up. Just like he said would happen. She unbuttoned his jeans, moving down a bit to reach the zipper. He lifted his hips to help her pull them off. She threw them in the direction of his belt. She gazed at his black boxers, cupping him through them. He was...growing. “There he is.”

He groaned. “What do you want to do with him?”

She grinned. “I have a few ideas.”

“Not to rush you, luv, but I need to be inside you.”

She raised her lip in a mock pout. “But--”

He met her eyes. “Next time, I promise.”

The likelihood of there being a ‘next time’ was slim, but if it gave him...hope - and her too if she were honest - then she was fine with that deception. There were worse things in the universe than that...untruth. 

She slid her fingers under the elastic band and started pulling. He helped her free _him_. The boxers joined his jeans on the floor. She met his gaze, asking ‘now what.’ “Ride me, luv. Hard.”

He could handle her worst, but could she handle _him_? She was sure as hell willing to try. 

She was glad she could control the pace because it was a...snug fit, but it felt so good. He held her hips as she bounced up and down, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. She was panting between moans and screams. Then she was...begging, and she _never_ begged. 

He granted her wish, spoken or otherwise, and flipped them over. He took her mouth as he thrust into her. “So good, luv. So tight.”

She moaned. “Fuck me, Spike.”

He complied. Thrusting with his hips, as she rose to meet him. 

“God, yes.”

“Just me, luv.”

 _He_ was more than enough for her. After a few more thrusts, it was time. “Coming.”

He pushed into her, riding out her orgasm. “Right behind you, luv.”

She felt it when he came inside her. It was...cold like the rest of him, but it felt so good inside her heat. 

He was slackening. He slipped out of her. Kissed her again. “So good, pet.”

She held him to her. “Amazing.” 

He looked at her. “Just so you know, I’m...clean. No diseases.” His face fell a bit. “And I’m shooting blanks.”

She smiled. “I’ve been through menopause, honey. No worries.”

“Oh, right. We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” 

“I think so.” She ran her hand through his hair. “And now, as much as I want to keep you here as my love slave--” 

He snorted and nipped her neck. “Imagine all the things we could do together.”

“Next time. Tonight, you have to be the hero. My hero.” 

He kissed her forehead and wiped away the tears that had started to fall. “You are one hell of a woman, Captain Sharon Raydor.”

She gave a small smile. “And you, Spike, you made me feel alive again.” She pat his back. “Now, go.”

He pulled out of her arms, out of the bed. 

She lay in the bed watching him as he pulled his black jeans back on. It seemed oddly...domestic. Like he was going off to work but would be home in the morning for her. Only that wasn’t true at all.

He disappeared into the living room for a minute. Then he returned with his shirt and duster folded over his arm and her clothing neatly folded in a stack. She grinned as she pulled the sheet up to cover herself more. “And laundry service too?”

“You don’t have to cover yourself up for me, luv.” His gaze suggested she still held his interest. He laid her clothes on her chest of drawers. “I figured I’d save you some time in getting them later.” 

She nodded her thanks. 

He pulled his duster on. He patted his pockets, obviously checking for something, and pulled out a wooden stake and a knife. The fact that he’d been armed barely registered in her mind. After all, so was she. She glanced at the stake before he returned it to his side pocket. “You use stakes?”

“Yeah, luv. I kill my own kind. How strange is that?”

She’d suspected that from their talk, but to see him holding a weapon that could very well kill him...that must have been surreal for him the first time he took arms at Buffy’s side. “Not as strange as you think, I’m sure.” And in a way, it made perfect sense. A vampire to protect humanity. Who else had his abilities, aside from the...slayer? And it appeared _she_ was busy, probably facing an apocalypse of her own. 

“I wish--”

She put up her hand. The sheet fell a bit from the movement, but she didn’t care. “I know. It’s okay.” She tried to smile. “What about you? Will you be okay?”

He shook his head. “Probably not. But you know, I feel a lot better about it now.” He leaned down to kiss her. "Gotta go, luv. Thanks for making my final hours...amazing." 

She ran her fingers through his hair. He was so sweet underneath...everything. "Go. I wish I could...help. Help more."

"You did. It's up to me now." He pulled away and went toward the door. "Be ready tomorrow. I...don't know what it'll bring."

She nodded. "I will."

He walked out of her bedroom, and she lay back against her pillow. She didn’t feel like sleeping, though. 

She climbed out of the bed, retrieving her robe from her closet. The slow, languid movements were...so different from the undressing. It had been so long. She’d forgotten the impatient fumbling, the intensity, the longing. But there were other things with Spike that were different. Assuming she lived through whatever was coming, that blonde demon had probably ruined her for all other men.

It was late, much later than she usually stayed awake, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Too much unusual excitement, and if that night was to be her last on Earth, she didn’t feel the need to sleep through it. On the other hand, if Spike and his friends succeeded, she would have to report to work the next morning. She sighed. Even her “last moments” involved compromises. 

She went into the kitchen, pulled her bottle of Riesling out of the fridge, retrieved a glass from the cabinet, and poured. She took the glass into her living room, grabbed her novel off the coffee table, and settled in. It wasn’t much, but if they were to be among her last moments, she couldn’t think of a better way to spend them--it was far too late to call her children, but she kept them in her thoughts. Ricky was likely fast asleep, ready for his early morning. 

Of her two children, Ricky was more like her: a rule following, responsible, early riser. He became more like her with each passing year. Joanne was more like Jack, as he used to be (before he lost all respectability). Neither of them wanted much to do with their father--a lifetime of disappointment was simply too much for them to forgive, and she understood completely. 

Jack was probably in the bottom of a bottle somewhere in Vegas. He would be dead before he even noticed anything was wrong, undoubtedly. 

She finished her chapter, sipped the rest of her wine, and went into her bedroom.  
She climbed in her bed and fell asleep faster than she would have thought. It was such a nice night; maybe it wouldn’t be the end of everything after all…

//////////////////////////////////////////////

She woke up later than usual, (the sunrise was a clear signal in that regard) slightly hungover, and sore in the most delicious way (no pun intended). She shook her head although it hurt a bit to move. Spike had shown her his world - and a side of herself she didn’t know still existed. Then he’d left to save the world. That would have been a hell of a line if she wasn’t certain it was true. 

Considering she was alive, (it was unlikely there were hangovers in heaven nor post-coital soreness, and from the little Spike had said of hell, she knew she wasn’t there) Spike and his friends had succeeded. She wished him well, wondering what the Powers That Be held in store for champions. He deserved a reward, surely. As did his friends and associates. 

His willingness to face down a seemingly unstoppable force made whatever struggles she had in her life appear...small. Not that he had rubbed his heroism in her face. Not at all. Those were her own frustrations talking. And too loudly for that morning. She rubbed her head. 

Yes, she was alive and grateful, but perhaps it was the wrong time for an epiphany. Nevertheless, the thoughts wouldn’t stop. 

So she dragged herself out of bed, crawled into the bathroom, and started her shower. The Scoobies - she found she much liked that word for the MCU - needed her, even if they would never admit it. 

She could deal with Brenda’s high pitched voice and southern drawl, which must certainly be an act because she never met anyone who spoke like Brenda Leigh Johnson. Even Provenza’s snide remarks would be okay. Sharon could deal with them. All of them. Because at the end of the day, it was just a job, and she could go home, and the Scoobies never followed her there.


	4. Chapter 4

Two Years Later:

The knock on the door woke her up. She checked the time. The hour was just short of obnoxious. Probably not Jack, though - he never bothered knocking. Nor did thieves and killers for that matter (most of the time, anyway). She sighed and rolled out of bed, fully clothed and armed, as she would likely be sleeping for the foreseeable future. 

She slowly headed for the front door. There was another knock, slightly more insistent that time. It wouldn’t be one of the guys - they all knew to call first, and even with the added stress of the letters, they would extend that courtesy (unless it was a serious emergency - and then they wouldn’t be knocking). She answered it. Gun at her side, ready to go.

It was… _him_. He had a small smile on his face. “What’s wrong, luv? I could smell your fear through the door.”

She stepped aside so he could enter. She tried to smile. It was good to see him although unexpected. Their time together had never been meant as more than one very strange but fulfilling night, or at least as long as he could have stayed. 

He nodded and stepped inside, looking around. She began walking to the sofa, expecting he’d follow. When they were seated, she asked what he was doing there - after so long. 

“Bloody hell if I know. I couldn’t get you out of my head, pet.” She snorted. “Not like that, luv. Although our time together was great.” He shook his head. “I caught a whiff of your scent and started walking. It was a feeling like...bollocks, I’m starting to sound like Angel.”

She laughed, feeling freer and safer than she had in days. 

He grinned. “There it is. The old you’s back.”

How could he _know_ her? So few people did, really. “It’s been...difficult.”

He snorted. “I think I can relate.” He stroked her face, and she leaned into the feeling. How could she feel such comfort from a dead man’s touch? “But the big bad’s here now. Tell me all about it.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Rusty burst out of his room. Sans lamp this time. “Sharon, who is this?!”

 _Oh, no. How was she going to explain this? Did this make her an unfit parent?_ She was about to explain...something but, again, was prevented from speaking, as Spike rose from the sofa and put out his hand. “Hello, Junior. The name’s Spike, and lucky for you, I’m on a very strict diet.”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He looked at her. “Sharon?”

Sharon gave her reassuring smile. “This is my...friend. You haven’t met him because he’s been...away for a long time.”

Rusty’s eyes widened. “Your friend? He’s not exactly your type.”

“Hey, I’m right here, you know. I’ve got feelings and a soul.”

Rusty lowered his head. “Sorry. I’m just…”

Spike nodded. “I know. I smell it.”

“Okay, you’re weird. And believe me, I know weird.”

Spike snorted. “I think ‘weird’ about covers it, actually. And it’s not the worst thing I’ve been called.”

Sharon cleared her throat. “All right, why don’t you both take a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

Rusty was the first to comply. He had been going out of his way to be extra agreeable lately. Out of gratitude or fear she didn’t know, but she missed the old Rusty. He sat next to her. “What’s he doing here?” 

She put her arm around him, and he seemed to relax into her touch. He was slowly letting her show him more affection - and returning it. “He’s here to help us.” She looked up at Spike, who was still standing. “Isn’t that right?”

He nodded and sat down on Sharon’s other side. 

“And how’s that, exactly? You’re the police, Sharon. And we’re not exactly vulnerable with all these...cops around all the time.”

“Spike is...well, he’s...special. Strong and fast.”

Rusty’s brow rose. “How do you know each other exactly?”

“I...uh...your mom and I...we--”

“Never mind. I got it. And…”

“And what?” Spike asked.

“And I’m not his mother.” She squeezed Rusty’s shoulder tenderly. “But I love him like he’s mine.”

“Oh, right. My mistake,” Spike said. 

“So you’re special. What does that mean exactly?” Rusty asked.

Spike looked at Sharon, silently asking permission. She nodded. Spike looked across the sofa at Rusty. “I’m a vampire.”

“Yeah, right.” Rusty snorted. 

“I can prove it easy enough.”

Sharon put up her hand. “That won’t be necessary.” She patted Rusty’s arm. “It’s true.”

“What is he, a cuddly vampire?”

Spike laughed. “That would be Angel, kid. But I don’t eat people if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, are you a ‘vegetarian’ like Edward?”

Spike bolted off the couch. “Never. Mention that name. In my presence. I don’t sparkle in the sunlight. My skin blisters and burns, and I could explode. I don’t fly, and I sure as hell can’t impregnate anyone. Although Angel could, apparently.”

Rusty laughed. It was the first genuine laugh Sharon had heard since the revelation of the letters. Whatever he could or couldn’t do, Spike had already given them a gift. “All right. He’s funny, I’ll give him that.” He yawned. “I’m gonna go back to bed.” He hugged her. “Good night.” He waved at Spike and went to his room.

“He’s a good kid,” Spike said, sitting back down.

“Yes he is. A wonderful kid.” 

“He’s in some trouble, though.”

She sighed. “All his life.”

Spike put his hand in hers. “His mother?”

“She was young. Younger than Rusty even. Her parents threw her out.” She shook her head. “I won’t pretend to understand her situation, but I do feel for her. That doesn’t mean I can forgive her, though. She abandoned her fifteen-year-old son and did nothing when her boyfriends abused him.”

He squeezed her hand. “Maybe she was getting it too.”

He was so _real_. He saw the truth in everything. It was...refreshing. 

She nodded. “Very possible. I’m afraid my picture is fuzzy at best, but it’s not at all a pretty one.”

“His father--”

“Another dud, to say the least. We learned that together. That’s why he’s with me.” She sighed. “For now.”

“And that’s what you’re afraid of? Losing him?” He tentatively put his arm around her. “What is it, luv?”

“There was this case. A really bad rapist and murderer. He was an attorney, so he--”

“He knew the system.”

She nodded. “Anyway, Rusty was...surviving on his own, and well, he witnessed the killer burying a body.”

Spike growled. “He’s just a kid.”

“Yeah, so he was in the system for a while, but it seemed easiest to place him with me.” 

“And you love each other.” He patted her arm. “I can see that clear enough.” 

“We do, but then these letters started.” 

“Threatening?”

She shook her head and sighed. “Creepy. Unsettling.” _And yes, threatening, but carefully treading the line without going over into_ too _threatening_. 

“I want to see one,” he said in a low tone that would sound...dangerous if it weren’t so comforting. 

She nodded. “Next time we get one.”

He growled. “We?”

“Yeah, I’m getting them too.”

He pulled her into a hug. “Come on. Let’s get to bed, and you’re not sleeping with that gun. You won’t need it, luv, I promise.”

She smiled. “Sounds good.” 

She led him into her bedroom, climbed into her bed, and he spooned behind her, holding her waist. She allowed herself to give in to the exhaustion that had become part of her existence. 

“I’m gonna take care of you and the kid,” he said in her ear. 

“M’kay,” she said before sleep took her.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When they fell asleep, Spike was spooned behind her, holding her tight, creating a warmth his cold body shouldn’t have been capable of. But when Sharon awoke, she found they had rolled over so she was the larger spoon, and she had her arms securely wrapped around his waist. She also heard a distinct...purr emanating from him. She’d missed that their first time together, as there’d been no time for a “morning after.” This time, they had the “morning after” without the “night before.” It was...overwhelming to learn how...satisfied he was just sleeping in her bed, holding her and being held. If she had it in her to purr, _she_ would have at that moment. 

Instead she carefully extracted herself from him, replaced the covers, and gathered her outfit for the day. After she showered and dressed, she made sure to close the shades, so the sun wouldn’t harm her guest. He rolled over at the sound of her movements. “Morning already?”

“It is. Look, I have to get Rusty to school, and then...work. You’re welcome to hang out here.”

“I could...do you want me to watch over him today?”

She raised a brow. “It’s daytime.”

“No, you don’t say?” He smirked. “Relax, luv. I can manage.”

“As long as you won’t burst into flames.” She returned to the bed to hug him. “You’re no good to me as an ash pile.”

He pulled her tighter, kissing her. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” 

Definitely not. His hands alone were worth keeping around, especially the way they were kneading her backside. She enjoyed the safe, comforting, pleasing feel of him for a moment before pulling away. “I have to go. Stay safe, Spike.”

He saluted her. “Either of you get a letter, I want it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then she exited her bedroom for the ever-difficult task of waking her foster son. 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

She was driving Rusty to school. He wasn’t saying much. It was hard to tell if it was because of the morning or...something else. She glanced at him after straightening the wheel as she came out of a turn. “Ask me anything.”

“Sharon, I get it. He’s your...friend.” He turned to her. “It’s okay. He’s...cool.”

“Aren’t you curious about what he is, or how I know him?”

“Maybe a little.”

Meaning a lot. “Just so you know, before I met Spike I never knew vampires existed. Or...anything about his world.”

“No?”

“No. He was just...a guy I met in a bar. I was a bit lonely, I guess. I had a good day at work and no one to share it with.” She squeezed his shoulder before returning her hand to the steering wheel. “You weren’t in my life yet. I think I missed you without even knowing you.” 

He grinned. “I missed you too.”

If only she could have found Rusty sooner. She could have sheltered him...from the world. 

“Anyway, Spike was funny and sweet. We had an instant connection. So when he told me what he was and what he’d done, it didn’t matter.”

He nodded. “Like me?”

There was nothing Rusty could do that would make her love him less. While her feelings for Spike were...different, they were in the same spirit, she supposed. Honest acceptance. 

“Exactly.”

“So he protects people, right?”

“Yes. He and his friends. By the way, he’ll watch over you today. And then take you home.”

“But he’s a...won’t the sun...”

She smiled. “I asked him. He says he’ll be fine.”

“Oh. Okay. I just didn’t want him to die because of me.”

She ran her hand through his hair. Then she flipped the turn signal to turn into his school. 

When she put the car in park, she turned to him. “Look for a red sports car, okay?” He nodded. “I love you.”

“Me too.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. Then he exited the car. “Be careful, Sharon.”

She ran her hand along her cheek and grinned. Then she put the gear in reverse and backed out of the lot. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

Spike was parked outside the school. The blacked-out windows and windshield of the red Charger provided ample protection, so he could sit and wait. He was quickly becoming bored, though. There were officers escorting the kid to his classes, guarding the classroom doors. Spike was there mostly...for Sharon. In case something bad went down, and then he would rely on his spidey senses to react in time. At the moment, there was...nothing. Aside from the fact that he was closer to a school than he wanted to be. 

There wasn’t much dark energy coming from the building, just the typical teenage angst his senses had learned to ignore, which was counteracted by the spiritual energy of the Catholic symbols. Whatever was bothering Rusty and Sharon was likely human, which didn’t make the threat any less dangerous. In 150 years, he’d seen humans do worse things to each other than the strongest, meanest demons could manage. He would confirm that the letter writer was human soon enough. In the meantime, he would wait. 

He switched tracks on his iPod and wished for the tenth time that hour for a swarm of demons to descend upon the carpark. He longed for the feeling and sounds of the crunch of bones and muscles as he worked his sword through each and every skull. 

He dug his cellphone out of his pocket, entering the number he hated most, but he knew it was what _they_ needed. And how could he say “no” to a woman who had never asked him for anything? She just accepted him, and it was...nice. It made him _want_ to be worthy of the trust she’d given him. 

The git answered on the first ring. Typical. “What do you want, Spike?”

“Nice to hear from you too, Sunshine. If you can stop running that nancy-boy hair gel through your hair, I...I could use a favor.”

“Why should I help you? You stole my car.”

“Well, boohoo. You’re the bloody champion, aren’t you? Or did I dial the wrong number? Maybe golden boy, Connor can help…”

A sigh on the other end. So melodramatic as always. “What is it?”

“My...friend and her kid are in some trouble. And I figured since you lot are detectives you could, you know, do your jobs.”

“You really suck at asking for help, you know that?” Spike snorted at that. Angel continued, “What’s the problem?”

“There’s this creepo writing threatening but not _too threatening_ letters to the kid and now his mother. She’s a cop--”

“What are you doing messing with a cop? They don’t know about our kind.”

“Well, you should talk, Mr. Perfect. And this one does know about me, and you know what, she likes it.”

“I _really_ don’t want to hear about your love life.”

“Then promise to help me if I need it, and I’ll hang up.”

“Done.”

“Great.” _Prick_. Spike ended the call and slammed his steering wheel a few times. If he had functional internal organs, they would be boiling over. His grandsire just _had_ to be the only other vampire with a soul, and he just _had_ to be the first to have one.

His phone vibrated and “Voodoo Lady” started playing. _Sharon_. “Hello, luv.”

“Hey, I just wanted to check in. You getting bored?”

Now, _this_ was a woman who understood him as a man of simple needs. “Nah, I’m great. Just finished arguing with Peaches.” She laughed at that. The sound made his soul feel...lighter. He continued, “And everything looks safe in the school. But I have my spidey senses trained on it.”

“Good. If you need to get into the school--”

“I can run for about 100 yards under a blanket. Maybe even 500.” He snorted. “I’ve done some pretty stupid things and only exploded once so far.”

“I haven’t heard that story yet.”

“Oh, it’s a good one. I’ll have to tell you about it later. Right now, you need to get back to work, Captain.”

“Indeed I do.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Thanks, Spike. I’m...really glad you came by last night.”

“Am I your favorite mistake?” he asked in a teasing tone. 

“Honey, I’m old--not as old as you, but old--and I’ve made a lot of mistakes. My ex for one. You weren’t one of them.”

Something dislodged in his heart. Aside from when Buffy had called him a champion for the first time, no one had ever said anything so...kind to him. “Thanks for saying that, luv. I’ll let you get back to work now.”

She ended the call, and he sat in reflection...for thirty seconds. Then he wished for some demons to kill until he could see Sharon and work off some of his energy in other ways…

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Yes, Lieutenant?” She asked after she ended her call with Spike.

Lieutenant Flynn stood at the door, smiling at her. “Who was it, Captain? I know it wasn’t Jack.”

 _Oh, perfect. She really didn’t want to explain this right now._ “What do you mean?”

“You’re glowing. You look...almost happy. That’s good under the circumstances.”

She nodded. “An old friend came to visit. I was very surprised and pleased to see him, and he met Rusty. They hit it off pretty well too.”

“That’s great, Captain. No one deserves it more than you.” He sighed. “Um, I hate to--”

“Oh, come on, Andy. Give me the worst of it.”

He sat in front of her desk and produced a plastic bag containing a letter from his pocket. She took it from him. “Thank you.”

She grabbed a pair of gloves out of her drawer and opened the letter. It was creepy, yes, but it was more about the case they’d just wrapped up than anything of her personal life. _Concerns_ with how long it took them to solve the case. Musings about her team’s regard for her. It was someone...close but not an insider. 

She could feel Flynn’s eyes on her, waiting for the next order. She looked up, meeting his eyes. “I have a friend who thinks he can...possibly get a lead for us by analyzing the letter. He’s...it’s...unofficial, so--”

He put his finger to his lips. “I won’t say a word.” He grinned. “I must say, I’m surprised to see Captain Sharon Raydor breaking a rule.”

She nodded. “Love makes one do strange things, sometimes.”

“How ya two holding up?”

“As well as we can. At least we know what’s happening, mostly.” She sighed. “And we had a _long_ conversation about personal safety, trust, and respect. He understands that if he ever hides something like that from me again, he won’t have to worry about this _letter writer_ because _I_ will kill him first.” The love and concern in her tone belied any threat in her words. “I think we’ll be better now, though.”

“Your friend?”

She nodded. “He’s...something special.”

“Well, I’m gonna let you get back to work, Captain. For what it’s worth, you’re doing a great job with all of this.” He flashed his brightest smile before exiting her office. 

She opened her case file and returned to her paperwork. Then she called the lead officer on Rusty’s detail, informing him that Rusty would be going home with the man in the red sports car parked in front of the school - that he was a trusted friend who would protect Rusty with his life. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

At the end of the school day, an officer escorted Rusty to Spike’s car. Spike lowered the window enough to salute the officer, who wished him a good, safe night, as Rusty opened the passenger door, burst inside, and closed it in a huff. Spike raised the window and sped off toward Sharon’s place. “Rough day, kid?” 

The kid was radiating negative energy, but Spike saw him banging his head slightly to the music. There was hope for the kid yet. Of course, Spike had yet to meet anyone who didn’t enjoy The Ramones. 

Rusty snorted. “You could say that.”

Spike turned the music down, only slightly mind--there was no point in music if he couldn’t hear it--but he wanted to hear Rusty too. “Tell me all about it.”

“You really want to hear about my stupid problems?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“You must really like Sharon.”

Spike nodded. “I do, but that’s not…I want to help you for you. Okay?”

And he did. The more time he spent in Rusty’s presence, the more he wanted to...help him, to protect him. Everything Sharon told him said this kid had been through hell, and Spike had been there. If he could keep Rusty from facing that again, then well...that would be a good thing. He let the thought drop there, afraid he was starting to think too much like Angel. 

“Okay. Well, my friend Kris is so afraid for my life, but she still wants to be my...girlfriend, and I’m just…”

“You’re not ready, no shame in that. You should tell her, though.”

“I’d have to...hurt her.”

“Yeah, love hurts sometimes. But it’ll be better for her in the long run, trust me.”

Rusty nodded. “So, you’re like, a vampire, or whatever. How come you’re not…”

 _Here goes…_ “Evil?” Rusty nodded. “I was. For 150 years I did a lot of pretty terrible things.”

Rusty didn’t even flinch. It was like he expected everyone (except maybe Sharon) to do terrible things, probably to him. “Then what?”

 _And now for the abridged version_. “Met a girl. The _Slayer_. Made me want to be better. At first, it was enough that I didn’t hurt people anymore, but then, I hurt _her_. And I knew I wasn’t good enough for her as I was. I needed my soul.”

“So you got it.”

“Yeah. I fought for it. A lot of demons tried to kill me, but I beat them. And now…”

“You babysit teenagers.”

Spike snorted. “Among other things.”

“You’re a good guy, Spike, and you make Sharon happy. She...really needs that right now. Sometimes I think, I like, ruined her life--”

“Don’t ever say that.” _Curse this soul, sometimes!_. “She loves you. Unconditionally. And it would kill her if she heard you say that.”

“Okay.” He turned to Spike. “If you can fight a bunch of demons for your soul, I can tell Kris the truth.”

Spike nodded. “Good luck with that, kid. I think what I did was easier.”

Rusty snorted. “Probably. You know, I’m not so bad in a fight. Nothing like you, but...I could handle Stroh.”

 _Thank you, kid._ “Stroh?”

“The bastard responsible for all of this.” Rusty sighed. “But you want to know the sad thing? I’m grateful to him because he led me to Sharon. But all that other stuff…”

“Don’t worry about Stroh. And all that other stuff. Concentrate on school and your life with Sharon.”

“And the letters?”

“Let me and Sharon worry about that.”

“I feel like you’ve given this kind of talk before.”

Spike snorted. “Well, I am over a century old. What, you think you’re the first troubled teen I’ve come across?”

Rusty laughed. “How’d it work out for them?”

“Dawn is blossoming with her sister and the other slayers, and she had a god after her.” He glanced at Rusty, meeting his eye. “You just have one letter writer. You’ll be fine.”

“You fought a god?”

“Yeah. I didn’t do it alone, but yeah.”

“So if there are gods, does that mean…”

“The verdict’s still out on that, kid. I know there are Powers who look after all of us, but as for the big guy upstairs, I don’t know.”

A total jack cut him off. Spike slammed his steering wheel a few times. “Bloody hell, where’d you learn to drive?! You’re lucky I’m reformed!” 

He would have said more to the long-gone driver, but Rusty’s laughter distracted him. Spike chuckled. It was so good to be alive, or whatever, enough to care about jackasses cutting him off. 

“What’s it like? Being a vampire?”

Spike grinned. “It can be so much fun, but I’d like to be a real boy again some day.”

“A real boy?”

“Yeah - human. Angel and I were vying for it, but I’m not sure either of us will ever succeed.”

“But you’re immortal, so you can keep trying, right?”

“Yeah, and think of the fun I can have in the meantime.”

“What’s with your style? You look like Billy Idol.”

Spike growled. “Hey! I’ll have you know I inspired _his_ look, and I sing better too.” 

“That’s pretty cool, I guess. You ever think of updating, maybe inspiring another generation of singers?”

“I may one day. I still like this one. And the birds love it.” 

“Birds?”

“Chicks. Women. They love my look.”

“Is that how...never mind.”

Spike shook his head. “I chatted her up first, and she saved me when I needed it most, Rusty. I owe her.”

Rusty didn’t say anything, so Spike let it drop. He pulled the car up to Sharon’s condo and put it in park. Rusty ran out and into the condo. Spike grabbed the blanket from the back seat and threw it over himself before darting out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Rusty had left the door open, so Spike sprinted right in. His back had just started to smoke up a bit. Rusty closed the door behind Spike. Then he slapped Spike’s back a few times. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll live.”

Rusty snorted. “Nice choice of words.”

Spike laughed. “Yeah. I’m a bloody laugh a minute.” He settled on the sofa, once there was no longer smoke coming off his back, obviously. He didn’t need to face an angry Sharon Raydor if he damaged her living room furniture. “What do you usually do after school?”

“Homework. Then she lets me watch tv.”

“Yeah? Anything good on the telly these days? I haven’t caught a good soap in years. Not since they canceled _Passions_.”

Rusty cringed. “Sorry, I don’t know about soaps. There’s not really anything good on. It’s just...it fills the time. I see Sharon’s cases on the news sometimes. It’s never like what Sharon says.”

“How do you mean?”

Rusty shrugged. “She understands things more than they do. Like with that Poster Boy guy. She knew it was a mistake to even have him on the news, and she was right. I just...I wish more people listened to her.” 

“The world would be a better place, that’s for sure.” 

Rusty nodded and went into the kitchen, sitting at the table, where he took out his school work. He was a good kid. Spike settled back against the sofa and dug out his phone, dialing her number.

“You’re home?” She asked.

“Hello to you too, Captain.” She was so much fun to tease. “Yeah, we’re holed up here, luv. He’s doing his homework per your orders, and then we’ll watch the telly.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be home, but Rusty’s good about making his dinner. And I’ll bring you _something_.”

He smiled into the phone. “You’re the best.”

“Any requests?”

“I’ve grown accustomed to pigs’ blood.”

It wasn’t a conversation he’d expected to have. No one had ever brought dinner home for him before. It was...domestic. She didn’t sound put out by it, either. Her...adaptability was remarkable.

“Then that’s what I’ll get. I’ll just say I’m making blood pudding.”

“Mmm. I love that stuff.”

“Maybe I’ll really make it sometime, then.”

“I’ll let you go, now.”

“Bye. Thanks.”

She ended the call, and Spike went into the kitchen. Rusty’s ears perked up. “She okay?”

Spike nodded. “Yeah, just working. She said you’d make yourself dinner.”

Rusty went back to his computer screen. “Yeah, that’s pretty standard. Do you...you know, eat?”

“I can. I don’t have taste buds, so there’s not much point. Although onion rings are still delicious.”

“Oh, okay. That must suck not tasting anything.” He shot an apologetic look. “Sorry, dude, I didn’t--”

Spike put up his hand. “You’re right, it does suck. No pun intended.”

“Is that why you want to be human?”

Spike shrugged. “Part of it, I guess. I’ll get out of your hair for a bit. Then maybe...do you like poker?”

“It’s okay.”

“I haven’t had a good game in a while.”

Rusty grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Spike gave him a slight nod and went into the bedroom he was sharing with Sharon for the duration of his stay. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Angel’s number. 

“You need your favor already?”

Spike grunted. “Yeah. There’s a man named Stroh. He was arrested around a year ago. I want to know where he is and how I can get to him.”

“All right. I’ll get back to you. You...you know what you’re doing, right? We can’t--”

“The bloody rules. I know. I just want information from him.”

He ended the call before he could become too angry, and returned to the living room. A nap seemed like a good idea.


	5. Chapter 5

As Rusty used the quadratic formula to solve a problem for his stupid SAT prep course, he thought about how...normal his day had been. Sure there were police officers all over campus, escorting him between classes, walking him to Spike’s car, but then he rode home, instead of going to Sharon’s office. And he was doing homework, contemplating what to make for dinner and planning on spending the afternoon and evening with a...vampire. And he wasn’t even a little freaked out about it. At least not anymore.

At first, he’d been surprised that Sharon would have invited anyone into their home after... everything. And of course, he never would have expected her to be friends with a vampire. He hadn’t even known of their existence until the night before, but after meeting Spike, he started wondering...he was sure some of the night-time activities he’d witnessed on Sunset were attributable to vampires or maybe some other demons. He supposed none of his “dates” were vampires because...well, he probably wouldn’t be alive, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t walked by every night. That thought made him even more grateful for Sharon. She...she’d saved him. She’d saved Spike too, apparently, but he wasn’t sure how. The fact didn’t surprise him, though. That was just...what she did. 

And now they had Spike, and he was a good, brave man. He was so unlike everyone Rusty had ever met, and not just because he was a vamp. He was devoted to Sharon and Rusty - just because. He had nothing to gain from them, wanted nothing from them. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He certainly was into Sharon, but it wasn’t like how Jack looked at her nor how Rusty’s “dates” looked at him. It was...an understanding between Sharon and Spike. A connection. It wouldn’t last, couldn’t last, but for the time they had together, it would be real. And good. Rusty was happy for Sharon. Glad she had someone in her life she could count on. He looked over at Spike on the couch. For a vamp, he could certainly snore. Rusty shook his head with amusement. Yes, he was happy for Spike too. The...man had had it rough - Rusty knew what that was about - and it was good for him to have some happiness with Sharon.

Rusty turned his attention back to the stupid problem. He hated math; it didn’t matter that he was good at it. He didn’t need it to boost his logical capabilities. Chess did that well enough, and was much more fun. But Sharon insisted this stuff was important, and keeping Sharon from yelling at him was a good thing.

His ears still stung a bit from when she’d found out about the letters. She had been so ...disappointed, worried, scared, angry. And it had all come out in her voice and expressions. As did her love. And that’s when he’d known - even more than when she told him before the yelling started - that she really loved him. And no one had ever loved him like Sharon Raydor. And maybe no one ever would. 

After she’d finished yelling, she’d pulled him to her in a crushing hug. It was like...she was holding on to him, afraid he’d...disappear if she let go. That was what it meant to have a...mother. And he’d realized he didn’t really care if he never saw his biological mother again. He wasn’t holding on to her anymore. It was his life with Sharon that mattered. And he clung to her in that hug. There had been two important embraces in his life - both with Sharon. 

He finished his problem, content he had solved it correctly. The rest of his homework was done. He moved into the living room, standing next to the couch. Spike’s eyes opened before Rusty could say a word. “All done?”

Rusty nodded. 

“I’d offer to check it over, but it’s been a while since I was in school.”

Rusty snorted. “What did they teach back then?”

Spike shrugged. “I’m not sure. They just wanted to make little automatons, mostly, but I spent my days comparing girls I liked to various flowers. I fancied myself the next Wordsworth, but I was bloody awful.” He smirked. “Glad I found something else I was good at.” His face fell. “Although I’m sorry for all the death and mayhem I caused.”

Spike sat up, so Rusty sat next to him. “What’s it like? Having a soul after...not for so long?”

“It hurt at first. Real bad. Like 150 years worth of nightmares being crammed into my head. Only they weren’t dreams but memories and every one meant I had taken a life and destroyed others in the process.”

Rusty cringed. He wasn’t proud of his actions at Griffen Park or anything he had done to survive on the Strip, but he couldn’t imagine the magnitude of guilt Spike was describing. “That sounds real bad, dude. Sorry.” 

“It’s not so bad anymore. I won’t forget those things, but I’m not that...demon anymore. I changed. I was changing even before I got my soul.”

Rusty nodded. If Spike could fight against his own nature, perhaps Rusty could move on too. Not that it would be easy, but he could do it. Especially if he had Sharon and the others in his life.

Spike smiled at him. “Whatever it is you’re running from. Whatever you’ve done. You _can_ change. I’m living proof of that, kid.”

“Thanks, Spike. You wanna play some poker? Jack taught me, and I should warn you--”

“It’s poker, kid. Don’t give yourself away.”

Rusty snorted. “Just as long as you don’t give me reflective sunglasses to wear.”

Spike chuckled. “Why on Earth would I do that? That wouldn’t be sporting.”

Rusty nodded. Spike really was...different. “Let’s play then?”

They sat at the dining room table after Rusty retrieved the deck of cards and toothpicks from the drawer. Spike shuffled the deck with a mastery not even Jack had. Spike caught his gaze and said, “Over a century’s worth of practice, kid. I should be good.”

“You ever try to make a...you know, a living out of it?”

“Nah. Truth be told, I never tried to make a living out of anything. I have few needs and the skills to acquire whatever I do need with little problem.”

Rusty let the subject drop. Spike dealt the first hand, and they played a few rounds until Rusty took a break to make dinner. 

He moved around the kitchen with the confidence and comfort he’d developed over the last two years. He looked inside the fridge and cabinets, determined to make something nice for whenever Sharon came home. They had everything they needed for chicken cacciatore, which he and Sharon had made for Kris the one time she came for dinner - before….everything went wrong. 

He prepared the ingredients and began cooking. 

Spike came in the kitchen. “That smells good.” 

Rusty nodded. “You sure you don’t want some? There’ll be plenty.”

“Well, maybe a little, if you’re sure there’s enough for you and Sharon.”

“I’m sure.” He grinned. “Sharon never eats much anyway.”

Spike nodded. “Do you...need any help?”

Rusty shook his head. “Nah, I got it.”

“It looks like it. How’d you learn to cook so good?”

“Growing up was...well, it wasn’t easy. If I wanted to eat, I needed to make it myself. And I...my mother...she needed me, Spike. So I cooked for her.” He shook his head, trying to smile. “Breakfast was my specialty.” He thought of Sharon and the meals they’d shared. “And now, I cook because I enjoy it. It’s soothing. Sharon and I cook together sometimes, and it’s...nice.”

Spike looked like he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t say anything. It was the same expression Sharon wore sometimes when Rusty spoke of his past. It wasn’t pity. It was...compassion, understanding, and sadness. 

They let the silence envelop them, and then Spike returned to the living room, pulling out his phone as he went. Rusty refocused on the stove. Dinner was almost ready. 

////////////////////////////////////////////

Nancy boy had come through, texting him the information about how to find Stroh. It was a good night to break into a prison. 

Talking to the kid had made him even more motivated to...meet Stroh. He wouldn’t kill him. Sharon wouldn’t like that, and the man was subject to the human laws, but that didn’t mean Spike wouldn’t use his game face to full advantage. And he was in the mood to exact his own version of...justice. He wasn’t like Angel and he’d never pretended to be. Right and wrong didn’t really matter to Spike. It was about what...he felt...how he felt. His own brand of right and wrong perhaps. And at that moment, dealing a bit of suffering to the man who’d caused Rusty and Sharon so much pain felt like a very good idea. 

Stroh was a predator. According to the information Angel had texted, Stroh preyed on young women, weak-minded men, and the young boy who’d grown up too fast, who’d taken care of his mother instead of having one who could take care of him. But now Rusty had Sharon, and she could take care of him, and nothing was going to stop that, not if Spike had anything to say about it. He’d stalk Stroh in his cell, make him feel as helpless as his victims, make him beg for mercy, and then...at the last second, Spike would grant it, but only because of Sharon. He didn’t give a sod about human rules - even if the Brood did. But he did care about Sharon and the kid, and that would stop his actions the same way it had caused them in the first place. 

He heard and smelled Rusty’s presence before the kid opened his mouth, so he turned to face him. Rusty was standing behind the sofa, where Spike was sitting. “Dinner’s ready.”

Yes, and it smelled wonderful. Too bad he wouldn’t be able to taste it, but the smell would be enough for his enjoyment. He nodded. “Thanks, kid.”

He sat at the dining room table across from Rusty. They made small talk as they ate. When they were finished, Rusty cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen, and then they played more poker. The kid really was a good player, and he won a few hands. The look of surprise and joy on his face made Spike feel like he’d won instead. 

////////////////////////////////////////////

“That was a great hand, kid.” 

Rusty grinned. 

“I need a smoke, though.”

Rusty put up his hands. “Man, you don’t wanna--”

“Oh, I know Sharon will have my head if I smoke in here. I’ll step outside a minute. You’ll be okay in here?”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “I promise to yell for help if the big bad comes.”

Spike smirked. “He’s already here, kid.” 

Spike got up from the table and walked out the door, shaking his head. The kid was great. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up. He took a few drags, contemplating. If he left them to go after Stroh, they’d be unprotected. Not that he thought something would happen or that Sharon couldn’t handle it, but if something happened while he wasn’t there…

He reached into his pocket. 

“There you are,” he heard a voice from behind him.

“Hello, Smurf,” he said, before turning around. 

“Why are you here? At this apartment complex?”

Her eyes rolled in the direction of her hand as she gestured to the building, in obvious disapproval. She didn’t quite get humanity yet. She understood his desire to mingle among humans even less, but she was one to talk. 

He turned to her. “I’m staying with a friend.” He took another drag. “What about you? Still fighting the good fight?”

Her...blueness flashed dramatically. She was annoyed, maybe angry. “I haven’t dealt death to anyone in days. It’s terrible. I’m bored.”

“Now you’re speaking my language, luv.”

Her blue eyes flashed. “That isn’t my proper form of address. You are my pet.”

“I’m no one’s pet.”

She raised a brow in a...quizzical expression. “And this friend of yours?”

“I’m just helping her out.”

“Is she feeding you and providing you shelter?”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

“Then you’re her pet.” 

He couldn’t figure out the expression on her face. Triumph perhaps. “I’m her…her...Hell, I don’t know, but I’m not her pet.”

“Your expression is revealing frustration.” She put out her hands in...in he didn’t know what. “Would you like to spar?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight, Smurf. Someone’s waiting for me upstairs.”

“Like I said, you’re a pet.”

There was no arguing with her. She was...a god. A particularly annoying blue god - the blue meanie - and after fighting alongside her for two years, he knew better than to try. “How’d you find me, anyway?”

“I called Angel.”

“Why?”

“He’s your leader. He’d know your location. He said you were protecting a...child.”

He smirked. “You missed me that much? Enough to call Angel?”

Her expression neither confirmed nor denied his claim. “I want to resume our previous arrangement.” 

“Because you’re bored.”

She gave a little nod. After spending the last day with Sharon and Rusty, he’d gotten used to their open expressions and clear answers. The Smurf was much harder to read - even after two years.

“Well, I’m needed tonight--”

“Your new masters.”

He tossed the cigarette down, and ground it out with his boot. “They’re not my masters. They’re my friends. And that’s what you do with friends, you watch out for them. Didn’t our time together teach you anything, Smurf?”

“It taught me you never pass up a fight.” 

Then she moved. Her fist flew at him. He raised his arm to deflect the blow, ready with one of his own, and it was on. The blue bird was right: He never passed up a fight. 

They took turns blocking and attacking. It was a dance they had choreographed over two years ago, when she was a test subject and he was the tester with his silly clipboard. They had no clipboard anymore, but their fight wasn’t any more serious. Just a chance for two age old demons - although she made him and Angel seem like infants - to exercise their combat skills. 

She got him in the eye. His hand went to it. “That bloody hurt, smurf!”

“You weren’t fast enough. You forget you’re fighting a god.”

“I didn’t forget.” 

He held his hand to his eye. It wasn’t too bad, but the blue bird’s fist could really smart. She could give Buffy a run for her money. He managed to refrain from putting on his game face and attacked, his sudden aggression catching her off guard, but only slightly, as she still blocked him. 

The dance began anew. She attacked, then retreated slightly, backing up near the building. He shook his head. “Ground rules, we don’t damage the property.”

“Pet.” Her blueness appeared disappointed.

“It’s respect, Smurf.”

“You keep forgetting you’re not human.”

“No, I don’t. That’s not bloody possible.”

A jab, a block, a kick, a block, steps forward, steps back, side steps, jumps for higher ground. Time stopped as they fought. There was nothing but them. 

Then Spike felt _it_. “Spike, um, are you okay, dude?”

Spike put up the peace signal, which he’d taught Illyria - over the course of several days because the bird didn’t like quitting or being told what to do. She obeyed him this time, but probably because of her fascination with Rusty. She had a bizarre obsession with the growth process of humans. 

“I’m fine.” He gestured to Illyria. “We were just--”

“I was playing with my pet,” Illyria said.

Rusty’s eyes widened, as he took in the god’s appearance. “Who is she?”

Spike smiled, clapping Rusty on the shoulder. “She’s a...friend. We work together sometimes.”

“I am not his friend. A god would never befriend one such as he.”

Spike shook his head. “See, I’m fine. She did get me pretty good, though.”

Rusty nodded. He glanced at Illyria, “You’re a god?”

Illyria gave a solemn nod. “I’m one of the old ones. I was a queen, commanding an army stronger than these...primitives, millennia ago.”

“Woah. She’s older than you, Spike.”

Spike laughed. “Yeah, don’t remind her. She loves to rub that in my face.” He looked in Rusty’s eyes. “Ready to go inside, kid?” Rusty looked from Spike to Illyria, hesitating to make sure Spike really was safe. It was...touching. Spike flashed his cockiest smirk. “I’ll be right in. I just want to say goodbye to her blueness.”

Rusty nodded before retreating into the building. 

“You care greatly for the boy,” She said, after Rusty was gone. 

Spike nodded. “His mother trusts me with his life. Listen, I have a...mission tonight. Since you’re so bored, do you think you could stick around here?”

“You’re asking me for help. To protect your...masters.”

“Yeah, that’s what friends do.”

She sighed. “I may choose to remain nearby.”

“Thank you.” 

Spike gave a half-wave and returned inside the high rise before the god could change her mind. She wasn’t one to offer favors often - although she usually came through for the team when it counted. 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

“So, she really is your friend?” Rusty asked when Spike stepped inside the apartment.

“Yeah, she really is. We fought against Wolfram and Hart together. And then spent a year in hell helping you lot.” At Rusty’s confused face, Spike shook his head. “Never mind. I’m just saying I trust her.”

“She’s not the god you fought then?”

“No, the Slayer and her Watcher killed that one.”

“Watcher?” Rusty’s brow was raised slightly.

“The Watcher looks after the Slayer. Trains her, teaches her. Stuffy wankers usually, but Giles wasn’t bad.” Spike snorted. “Just don’t tell him that.”

Rusty nodded. 

“Anyway, Glory was a crazy, stupid bird. Glad she’s gone, let me tell you.” Spike shook the memories away. “Ready for another hand?”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

During their tenth hand or so, Sharon came in. Rusty’s eyes lit up at the sound, and he turned to face her. The boy loved his mother - whatever the title was, that was their relationship, their truth. 

“Hey, Sharon. I made your favorite,” Rusty said. 

She threw her bag on the side table next to the sofa and entered the dining room, leaning down to kiss Rusty’s forehead. “You did, huh?”

“It’s in the fridge for you.” 

She walked around to Spike’s side, and he wrapped his hands around her, as she leaned down to kiss him. Then her eyes widened in fear. Anger. “Who did this to you?”

He chuckled. She was pissed off enough to take on the whole of Wolfram and Hart - but those impulses could be dangerous. He knew. “I’m fine, luv. It was a sparring session with a friend.”

Rusty cleared his throat. “She’s a blue god, Sharon.”

She looked from Rusty to Spike, eyebrows raised. “A blue god?”

Spike nodded. “Long story. But we’re associates.”

“And the shiner?”

“Well, she is a god. But trust me, I’ve felt much worse.”

She cringed. “Let me get something to clean that up. I brought your dinner.”

She disappeared into the hallway. Rusty grinned at him. “She’s gonna bring out her first aid kit.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah? She ever do this for you?”

Rusty blanched a bit. “Once.”

“Sorry, kid. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

Rusty shrugged. “Even you and Sharon can’t protect me from my past.”

“Well, we can try.” They maintained eye-contact until Sharon returned with the ointment. Spike smiled at her. “You know I’ll just heal on my own. Come tomorrow you won’t even be able to see it anymore.”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I see it now, and...I just want to do something about it, all right?”

“Yeah, luv.” It was like when Fred used to patch him up after a fight. His heart lurched a bit at the memory. He still missed her: The warm smile, the intelligence, loyalty to her boys. He pulled Sharon to him as she approached. “I’ll enjoy your touch.”

Rusty made a gagging sound from across the table, but there was little intent behind it. Spike snorted. “More on that later, luv.”

She laughed. Then she examined his eye. “You know, I think it already looks better. It hasn’t even been a few minutes.”

“It looked worse than that an hour ago,” Rusty said.

“Well, you certainly weren’t exaggerating about your abilities, but I’m treating this anyway.”

He held her tighter. “But then I want to eat, I’m starving.”

“But you ate--,” Rusty said, the confusion evident. 

Spike put up his hand to reassure the kid. “It’s not against your cooking, I promise. Only blood can truly satisfy me.” 

“Oh, right,” Rusty said. 

She finished rubbing the ointment around his eye. And stood up, looking between the two of them. “You boys getting along?” 

They both nodded. 

“And playing poker, I see.”

“I won a few hands, Sharon. Spike...he plays fair,” Rusty said. 

Sharon stroked Spike’s shoulder. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Spike shivered at the touch and her voice. Her faith was...overwhelming. He covered her hand with his. “Thanks, luv.”

She went to reheat her dinner, and Spike followed her into the kitchen. She looked over at him. “How do you take your blood?”

He said he’d take care of it, explaining how he liked it reheated in a coffee mug. It wasn’t so much that he liked it that way - it had taken his body months to stop rebelling at the repulsive taste of the pig’s blood. He was a hunter, the best of his kind, and not hunting violated his very nature, but he did what he had to. And heated up, it wasn’t so bad. 

While they waited for the microwave to be free, she showed him where the mugs were, and he poured his blood into one. “Did the butcher give you a hard time?”

She shook her head. “I just said I was making blood pudding.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t think he cared. I was offering to pay for something he wouldn’t have been able to sell otherwise.”

“Good point.”

“Was he okay?”

He put his arms around her. “He’s great. He’s starting to relax, I can smell it.” He kissed her neck. “So are you.” 

She moaned at his touch. She was so receptive to every touch and stimulus, and she made sounds that reverberated through him. “Your presence is very soothing.”

He held her close. 

Rusty entered the kitchen. That time, he had no noticeable reaction to seeing them like that. Spike was sure he saw the kid smile for a fraction of a second, though. “I’m gonna turn in. Good night, you two.”

Rusty gave a little wave, which held more affection coming from Rusty than the same gesture would from most people. Then he was off.

Sharon watched him go. “Love hurts, Spike.”

 _Love_. Spike had always been Love’s bitch, but in his arms was another of Her victims. “I know, luv.” He kissed the top of her head. “Maybe it’s supposed to.”

She hmmed. She didn’t say anything. He could hear her thinking, though. Her mind was centered mostly on the kid, what she could do for him. The thing was, it would have been much easier to deal with the angst of Rusty Beck’s life sans the letters and Stroh. That’s where Spike came in. 

Her microwave beeped, and she opened it, pulled out her plate, and checked if the platter was warm enough. It was, so he took his turn. After two minutes, his blood was the perfect temperature. They sat at the table across from each other. She didn’t seem at all put off by the contents of his cup, but he was careful not to make a mess. Not that he wanted to waste a single drop. He was starving after all and had a big night ahead of him.

“Oh, I got a letter today.”

He nodded. She was so matter a fact about it. Calm. “Such a big change from last night.”

She smiled. “You put everything in perspective for me. We’ve got the guns, intelligence, and you. What could this _person_ possibly have?”

“Indeed.” 

“How’s your blood?”

“It’s okay, luv.” 

She nodded. “You miss it, don’t you?”

She really did get him. “Yeah, it was an adjustment.” 

“I guess there’s no way to really hunt anymore, unless…”

“What?”

“You could go on safari, I guess.”

“It would be fresh, at least.” He shrugged. “This is the best way, though. Takes away all the temptation, and I get to work off my aggression and strength fighting demons.” He grinned. “You know, that’s a much more challenging fight anyway. I should have been doing that all along.” 

“Are there a lot of them?”

“So very many. There are more races of demon than of man. And not all of them are evil either. Many of them are just trying to get through their lives like any of you. It’s just their...nature doesn’t always gel with human laws. Anyway, I’m discerning in the ones I kill.”

She nodded. “Sounds a bit like being a cop. I used to go after my own kind too. So I know it’s not easy.” She sighed. “And that...god--”

“Illyria.”

“Illyria. She’s a friend of yours? Helps you out.”

Spike nodded. “Remember the night we met?” 

“How could I forget?”

“Right. Well, she was one of our associates against the big bad. She’s a prickly bird, but she’s good in a fight.”

“Then I trust your judgement.”

He nodded. “How’s your group treating you now?”

She smiled. “Very well. I think those people are actually starting to like me, but that doesn’t matter as much as knowing they respect me and my authority. That’s enough for me.”

“That’s what I like about you, Sharon. You’re so...you. No bullshit, no drama, you get the job done and go home.”

She snorted. “Someone has to be the adult, you know?”

“I do. I really do.”

“But there are moments - more of them lately - when it feels like we’re almost a family. I think Rusty had a lot to do with that. They all love him - nearly as much as I do. And it’s...so different than before.”

He grinned. “I’m so glad. Look at you, you’re blossoming. New hair, new frocks, positive work environment.”

She gave him a big smile. It wasn’t one she gave often, he knew, but it meant she was happy. The red in her cheeks and ears said she didn’t hear compliments often. “Thanks, Spike.”

“Now, what about...later?”

“Later?”

“After I, you know, move on again.”

She reached across the table to stroke his hand. “I know this...us…can’t last. We’re from different worlds, I know that. I’m just happy to see you again. When I woke up the next morning, I was relieved to be alive still, and then I...I thought and hoped that meant you were okay, that you’d made it through the night.” She smiled. “I guess I always had it in the back of my mind that I’d see you again.” 

“My time...went a bit different than yours, luv.”

She peered at him. Curious and concerned. 

“I guess, technically yours did too, originally.” He put up his hands. “I’ll spare you the details, but long story short, Angel and our little gang failed. We failed so bad that the big bad reset time just to keep the world spinning. But I...I remember.”

She shuddered. 

“That’s why I didn’t return. I’ve been wandering. Doing a bit of good where I could. Sometimes working with Peaches. Illyria and I patrol for old times sakes on occasion. I’ve even helped Buffy out of a jam.”

She got out of her chair and moved to sit in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and she rubbed her cheek against his head. “You’re my wandering champion. And you know, I knew that even before I had the details.”

“Which brings me to this...Jack.”

She sighed. “Rusty probably told you. He took his leaving hard, much harder than I did. Jack decided to try LA living again.” She shook her head. “Didn’t work out so well, he’s probably back in Vegas. I don’t expect to see him anytime soon, and if he does return, he’ll find I changed the locks.”

“Good, but is that enough for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Luv, you and the kid, you deserve a family.”

“We have one. A wonderful one. And I think we both consider you part of it.” She stroked his cheek. “But if I were to find someone who made me happy - aside from you - and who treated Rusty well, then yes, maybe, I’d consider dating again, maybe even more. But honey, I’m sure you’ve figured this out by now - I’m my own person. I’ve made my life the way I want it, adjusting and readjusting a few times, but…”

“I just want you to be happy is all, luv. And if there’s someone who can do that--”

She kissed him, which probably meant it was time to shut up. He took her cue and responded. Fully taking in her scent. He would miss this. Miss _her_.

She broke the kiss. She took a moment to catch her breath, as he watched her, held her. She sighed. “I should show you that letter...before.” 

He released her, though it killed him. There would be time later. She climbed off his lap and went into the living room where she’d stashed her bag. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

She moved with trepidation while retrieving the letter. They were having such a nice chat, which was quickly giving way to something much more...heady. Perhaps climbing on his lap had been a mistake, but he just...brought out something in her. And she couldn’t deny it felt good. She wasn’t even uncomfortable showing him affection with Rusty present. 

Given Rusty’s...situation, she had always been careful about that. And it helped that she’d been essentially celibate for so many years. She didn’t have to make drastic changes to her lifestyle - aside from those that came from raising a teenager again, at sixty. She was another extreme for Rusty: His mother - the other Sharon - had been too young, too immature to handle the responsibility alone, whereas she was _old_ probably close to twenty years older than his classmates’ parents. But that didn’t seem to matter to Rusty. Cynthia had seemed to think - even in light of the letters - that Rusty had the best chance of a stable and healthy upbringing and future right where he was, with her. 

Cynthia had taken her aside and said, _“It helps that he loves you. With you, he’s torn between his selfish-survival impulses and his need to please you. You really do bring out the best in him. Even his attempt to hide...those letters shows his desperation to hold on to the only good thing he’s ever had_ \- you.” 

His comfort around Spike gave her hope for their future. Maybe one day there could be a third member of their little family, but until then, she would be content in her life with Rusty. 

She pulled the bagged-up letter out of her purse. It was time to get to business - and maybe get some answers, so Rusty’s life could become just a little bit more...normal. 

She returned to the dining room table and handed Spike the letter. He started removing it from the bag. 

“I don’t suppose you have fingerprints.”

“I have them, but they won’t show up on any database. Although I have been arrested for tax evasion in the past.” 

“Now, that I have to hear.”

“Long story, luv. I had a run in with the Immortal.”

“The Immortal? Why that title? I mean, aren’t you immortal? And Angel?”

Spike grinned. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s a stupid name, but the bloody Italian doesn’t have my creativity, luv.”

“What’s this Immortal like?”

“Bloody awful man with a nasty habit of stealing my girls. We don’t know much about him, but he’s evil. And powerful. He has a lot of power in Europe. Even when it comes to human laws.” He shook his head. “I wanted to get back at him, and he set me up on charges for tax evasion.”

She shook her head. “Of all the things you could have been in jail for.”

“I know, right. Prison wasn’t so bad. And I certainly had the years on my side. Things were getting a bit...stale with Dru, so it was good to have the break.”

“Then what?”

He pulled the letter out of the bag and opened it. “I got bored and broke out. Decided I had enough of Europe and brought Dru with me to America.” He chuckled. “The fifties were a strange time over here, though. We didn’t really...fit in.”

She laughed. “I think I’d enjoy history classes if you taught them.”

He looked up from the letter. “That would be a sight.” He pointed at the letter. “I guess it’s been analyzed for prints and all.”

She nodded. “No prints at all except for the officer and mailman who handled the envelope.”

He raised it to his nose, taking a deep wiff. “I don’t smell anything that can help us. Except...it seems like it was written in a warehouse or otherwise abandoned place. I think I smell gunpowder too, so there’s that.” He looked up at her. “Nothing you wouldn’t expect from a creep who writes threatening letters.”

She nodded. “Why don’t we read it - line by line. See if anything jumps out at us.”

She sat in the chair next to his, and he placed the letter between them. “This greeting shows the writer knows who you are, just like with Rusty. Now, who would have that information?”

“Hmm. My division - I know we can trust all of them. I, uh, I already took care of the leak there. The DA’s office.” She took off her glasses. “Not sure how many of them know. Rios didn’t know until she took on the case.” 

“Anyone else?”

“Cynthia, Rusty’s case worker. Brenda and Fritz - they’re...friends of mine.”

“Anyone who isn’t a friend?”

She snorted. “None aside from Rios - and as bad as she can be at her job sometimes, I can’t imagine her wanting to jeopardize her own case. Between you and me, she doesn’t need to.” She shook her head. “It could be a matter of one of my people letting something slip, without thinking. And there was no reason it would matter that I took in a foster child to anyone who didn’t know about the case.”

He nodded. “But if someone with knowledge of the case was in a strategic position, he could have overheard that information and known how to use it.”

“Exactly. Yes. And I believe that’s the kind of person we’re dealing with. Someone who owes the perp, who knows enough details about the case through Stroh, someone who is smart and patient and inconspicuous.”

“Perhaps we should go to the source.”

She shook her head. “We can’t prove it’s him. And there has been so much scandal surrounding this case. If anyone from my division starts slinging accusations at him, well, let’s just say it’ll do more harm than good for our situation.”

“Okay.” He didn’t meet her eyes, focusing instead on the letter. He dropped the subject quickly. “This opens up pretty ‘friendly’ on the surface.”

She nodded. “Yes, it does. Making me out to be a kind of martyr for taking in a troubled teen, acknowledging the challenges involved. Just enough to try to get under my skin.”

“It’s not working.” He peered into her eyes, and there wasn’t an ounce of doubt in them as he said that. 

“No.”

“Good. That means this guy failed with you. But…”

“Rusty’s more sensitive, yes.”

He nodded. “He’s a tough kid, though. He’ll hang in there long enough for us to solve this.” 

The uncertainty in his eyes belied his words, but she didn’t call him on it. She cleared her throat and read the next sentence aloud. “That casts aspersions on our gumption - both me personally _and_ my division as a whole."

“It sounds almost...concerned.”

She sighed. “And knows much more about our cases than I’m comfortable with.”

“You sure you plugged the leak?”

“Absolutely. My guys...they’re airtight. And even if they didn’t like me - which I don’t think is true anymore - they adore Rusty. There isn’t a person in the division I wouldn’t trust with his life.”

They continued reading the letter. It revealed nothing that could be linked to an individual. Not even a hint of a lead. She sighed. “It was worth a try, right?”

“Yeah, luv. We’ll get him in the end.”

She took the accursed letter, rebagged it, and returned it to her purse. She would slip it back into evidence the next day. 

Then she slipped onto Spike’s lap on the chair. He purred as he pulled her closer. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“Just don’t let me go.”

He chuckled. “I will eventually.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued, “but only to move to your bed.”

Which was a very good idea, as the chair wouldn’t hold them for very long, nor would it be comfortable. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“And what about the letters?”

“We’ll keep analyzing them. The _writer_ will slip up, and we’ll nap him. Or her.”

“That simple?”

She hmmed. “Usually is.”


	6. Chapter 6

He loosened his hold on her and she rose from his lap. Then she held out her hand and he took it, as she led him to her room. When he closed the door behind him, she pushed him against it. Aggressive she was. He liked that. He let her control the pace of their kisses as she moaned against him. Her hands were...everywhere.

When she broke for air, he stroked her cheek. “You really are a huntress, luv.”

Her expression was every bit the huntress. She pulled him into the room and said, “Get on the bed.” He purred as he complied. She straddled him, lowering her head to his, kissing him. “I love that sound.”

He held her tight, taking control of the kiss. She moaned as their tongues mated. When she broke away, he said, “And I love your sounds.”

She ran her hands along his chest. “You’re overdressed.”

He chuckled. “You’re one to talk, luv.” 

He followed her not-so-subtle command anyway, opening his duster and throwing it off. 

She hmmed in delight. “You’re so good at that.”

He leaned in to nip her neck. “Years of practice. The jacket’s….part of me.”

“I do like you in it.” She stroked his chest. “I like you out of it too.”

He opened her suit jacket. “Allow me.” She held out her arms, and he pulled it off her her. “Much better, luv. But I should hang this up.”

She raised her brow. 

“You know it’s true.”

She nodded, conceding his point. Then she climbed off his legs, freeing him. He went to the wardrobe. From behind him, he heard the rustling of her clothes and the zip of her pants as she stripped. He chuckled. “Didn’t want to wait, huh?”

“It seemed...expedient.”

“Quite.” 

Her wardrobe was a thing of beauty. So many lovely suits and frocks, each that fit _her_ perfectly. All organized in a row. He found the free hanger and placed her jacket on it, returning the hanger to its proper place. That was...new to him. Even after 150 years, there could be different experiences. One of them was waiting for him - naked. 

He strode to the bed. “Where do you want me, luv?” 

He quite liked having her in charge. She pointed to the spot on the bed - the one he’d been in before. He laid down. His arms open, ready for her...worst, which would be the best, he knew. 

She straddled him again. Her hands went to the hem of his shirt and started pulling. “I didn’t get to enjoy these abs last time.”

He grinned. “Didn’t peg you for an ab girl.”

Not that he was complaining. Her hands running along them felt so...good. 

“Neither did I. But--” She lowered her gaze to his bare torso. “--when the opportunity presents itself…” 

She pulled the shirt up the rest of the way and lifted it over his head. She tossed it over his jacket. Then she went for his pants. He reached for her, needing to feel those breasts again, especially because he remembered how much she enjoyed his touch before. She shook her head, effectively stopping his movement. He raised his eyes to meet hers. She smiled. “Later, honey. There’s something else I want. And you did promise.”

 _Oh, that. Right._ “By all means, luv.” 

He lay back against the pillow, his hands rested behind his head. He could be...vulnerable for her, and if she wanted a taste, he was all for it. She opened his fly and started wiggling his pants down. He raised his hips to help, but mostly he just enjoyed the view: her breasts bouncing as she moved, her taut stomach muscles flexing and unflexing, her determined expression becoming more...predatory by the second. He purred just for her. 

She had his black jeans down to his ankles, and she pulled them off, one leg at a time. She tossed them in a heap with the other clothes. “I’m sorry I’m not as neat as you.”

“No worries, pet. I love the intensity.” 

And that he had brought it out of her. He’d seen her wardrobe enough to know she was meticulous. Her apartment was spotless, and even Rusty...encouraged him to keep it that way. But this...behavior. This was new to her. And he was already hard. 

She slipped her fingers under the elastic of his boxers. “Let’s get these off, shall we?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He hadn’t said that and meant it...ever. He liked it. There was much less...finesse. He quite appreciated this sloppy Sharon, especially when it involved her hand around _him_ like that. 

“You like that?”

He groaned. 

She grinned, every bit the predator. “Good. I have something else in mind, though.”

She lowered her head and took him in her mouth. She felt so good. Whatever she lacked in recent experience, she made up for in...enthusiasm. She moaned around him, and the sound reverberated on his dick. “Gonna come, luv.”

She nodded ever-so-slightly but did nothing to stop. Quite the opposite in fact. She increased the speed and intensity, while still remaining...thorough. Her wishes were clear, and he’d be an idiot not to comply. He held off as long as he could and then he unleashed. 

She swallowed it all, moaning before she released him. Then she collapsed against him. “Thanks for letting me do that. I had to at least once.”

He held her against him. “You’re amazing, luv.”

She snuggled against his neck. “This is nice.”

He chuckled. “Don’t go thinking we’re finished. Far from it.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“For starters, I’m reclaiming my...privileges.” He cupped her breasts, one in each hand. 

That was working for her, and he hadn’t even begun yet. Without him saying a word, she lay on her back. He followed her, lowering his mouth to her right breast. He kissed the side, the top, and all around before going where she wanted him, and then her moan as his tongue slid around her nipple made him feel like a...god. 

He gave her other breast the same treatment. He was driving her wild. “Please.”

“Please what, luv?”

“More.”

He gently bit her nipple, and she about bounced off the mattress. She screamed his name. It sounded good that way. He elicited the same response when he repeated the action on her other nipple. Only it wasn’t exactly the same: She commanded him to fuck her, and then, in the next breath - a particularly panting one - she begged him. He grinned. Her loss of control was sexy enough to get him hard again. “I’ll get there in a minute, luv. There’s something else I’ve been _dying_ to do.”

She moaned, clearly trusting what was good for him would be _good_ for her too. But, he had to admit, his reasons weren’t entirely selfless. Even his soul could only do _so much_. He moved down her body, loathe to skip tasting her navel, but he was bordering on cruelty as it was. “Here I come, luv.”

He started with her inner thighs, a few licks followed by some nips. She was making the sounds he adored all the while, always asking for more. She was beyond ready. Menopause had done nothing to her libido, at least not according to the evidence before him. It was time for a taste. 

He lapped up her juices. Then he ran his tongue around her clit. Her moans and shakes revealed how close she was. He bit down at just the right spot and at the perfect intensity to set her off, and then he rode it out with her.

When she was finished convulsing, he climbed up her body. And he took the opportunity to lick her navel that time. She giggled, and the movement of her body against his tongue - the laughter shocks - felt so good. “That tickles,” she said, with glee in her voice.

He looked up at her. “I’ll have to remember that for later, pet.” 

“What about you? Any ticklish spots?”

She didn’t ask if a vampire could _be_...tickled, and that...warmed him for some reason. He smiled sheepishly, the way that prat William used to...before. “My feet.” 

She grinned. “Mine too.” 

He filed that information away for later. Perhaps there would be a time when she would need a good laugh, which only a tickle attack could cause. He gazed at her, the way she smiled at him because of what he’d done. His heart lurched at the idea of causing her face to fall. He captured her mouth, and she trapped him there. 

When he pulled away, she begged him to fuck her. “With pleasure, luv.”

He guided his cock into her heat and thrust, easy at first, and then hard, as she pushed up with her hips and dug into his back. She’d leave scars (albeit temporarily). Perhaps she would take care of them later. He quite liked the idea of her hands soothing the (good) pain she caused. 

“So good. Like that.”

She picked up her pace in everything, and her moans...she was close. He nipped her neck. “That’s it, luv, come around me.”

She called his name as she came, and that was enough to send him over the edge. He pushed into her until he was too soft, and then slipped out. He curled up against her side and kissed her neck. “So good, luv.”

He got out of the bed. She sat up, a question on her face. He put up his hand. “I’ll be right back, pet. Just getting us a washcloth.”

She nodded before resting against her pillow again. He’d worn her out, but he suspected she would bounce back. His Sharon was magnificent. He slipped into the master bathroom. The shower looked enticing...if she were up to it. He settled for one of the washcloths on the stack on the vanity, ran the water until it was warm enough, and prepared the cloth. Then he stalked to the bed. 

She opened her legs to make his quest easier, and he rubbed the cloth along her thighs before getting to her core. 

“That feels so good, Spike.”

“You’re all clean, luv.”

He returned the cloth to the bathroom and slid back into the bed, snuggling by her side. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet. He watched her: the steady breaths she took, the way her eyelids moved. She made him think of a song from his boyhood, and he wanted her to hear it. He began singing: 

“A wealthy young squire of Tamworth, we hear,  
He courted a nobleman’s daughter so fair;  
And for to marry her it was his intent,  
All friends and relations gave their consent.”

Her eyes blinked open. “What’s that?”

“Just an old folk song from my youth.”

“I like it.” She stroked his cheek. “You sing very well.”

“Thanks, luv.” He continued singing: 

“The time was appointed for the wedding-day,  
A young farmer chosen to give her away;  
As soon as the farmer the young lady did spy,  
He inflamèd her heart; ‘O, my heart!’ she did cry.

She turned from the squire, but nothing she said,  
Instead of being married she took to her bed;  
The thought of the farmer soon run in her mind,  
A way for to have him she quickly did find.

Coat, waistcoat, and breeches she then did put on,  
And a hunting she went with her dog and her gun;  
She hunted all round where the farmer did dwell,  
Because in her heart she did love him full well:

She oftentimes fired, but nothing she killed,  
At length the young farmer came into the field;  
And to discourse with him it was her intent,  
With her dog and her gun to meet him she went.

‘I thought you had been at the wedding,’ she cried,  
‘To wait on the squire, and give him his bride.’  
‘No, sir,’ said the farmer, ‘if the truth I may tell,  
I’ll not give her away, for I love her too well’

‘Suppose that the lady should grant you her love,  
You know that the squire your rival will prove.’  
‘Why, then,’ says the farmer, ‘I’ll take sword in hand,  
By honour I’ll gain her when she shall command.’

It pleasèd the lady to find him so bold;  
She gave him a glove that was flowered with gold,  
And told him she found it when coming along,  
As she was a hunting with her dog and gun.

The lady went home with a heart full of love,  
And gave out a notice that she’d lost a glove;  
And said, ‘Who has found it, and brings it to me,  
Whoever he is, he my husband shall be.’

The farmer was pleased when he heard of the news,  
With heart full of joy to the lady he goes:  
‘Dear, honoured lady, I’ve picked up your glove,  
And hope you’ll be pleased to grant me your love.’

‘It’s already granted, I will be your bride;  
I love the sweet breath of a farmer,’ she cried.  
‘I’ll be mistress of my dairy, and milking my cow,  
While my jolly brisk farmer is whistling at plough.’

And when she was married she told of her fun,  
How she went a hunting with her dog and gun:  
‘And now I’ve got him so fast in my snare,  
I’ll enjoy him for ever, I vow and declare!’”

When he concluded the song, she thanked him for sharing it with her. Then she yawned. He kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, pet.” 

She drifted to sleep in his arms. It was the first time he’d gotten to watch her sleep. She was beautiful, unguarded. There was so much life there. Love. He stroked her cheek before slipping out of the bed from behind her. She didn’t stir.

He quickly dressed and left her bedroom. He listened as he walked down the hall; Rusty was sound asleep, snoring. Good. They both needed their rest, and they would be safe until his return. 

He grabbed Sharon’s keys from her purse. Of all the...transgressions he’d committed over the years, that seemed like a major infraction, but it was necessary. He shuffled out of the apartment and locked the door behind him. 

When he stepped onto the concrete, Illyria was...there. She nodded solemnly. “I’ll watch over this building.”

He nodded and said if it wasn’t much trouble, she could keep a particular eye on Sharon’s apartment. The blue bird seemed to agree. Then she said something about crystals. He didn’t know where she got her ideas sometimes, so he walked away. He had some prey to catch. 

/////////////////////////////////////////////

Breaking into a prison wasn’t that hard - it’s not a contingency most guards planned for, as it seemed so...unlikely. Not that breaking out would have been all that hard for him either. He hopped over the gate. His black outfit provided ample cover in the darkness. He avoided the search lights easily enough, and his years hunting, especially his last several years with Buffy - whether as her predator or her partner - had trained him in stealth (although he occasionally gave himself away just to break the boredom). 

Once he neared the entrance, he took off his duster and wrapped it around his hand to muffle the sound of his fist breaking the glass - and also to avoid some of the cuts. The shatter was still loud enough to set off the alarm, but he found the sensor on the ceiling, jumped up to grab the wires and yanked. That silenced the alarm, but it would already have been heard. It was time to move. 

He headed in the direction Angel’s instructions indicated. He listened carefully as he went. The guards were checking the cells. He didn’t have long. Even when they found no one had escaped, they would still wonder about the window and alarm. 

Stroh had a private cell separate from the rest of the population, which meant there would be minimal witnesses. Spike found the cell and bent the bars so they were wide enough to pass through. 

Stroh sat up in the bed with a start. Even in the darkness Spike could see the smug smile on the...man’s face. “I was wondering what the commotion was. I can’t really see you, but I guess you owed me a favor, huh.”

“I owe you all right, Stroh,” Spike said as he stepped further into the cell. 

Then he dragged Stroh out of the bed by his foot and tossed him onto the floor.

“What is this?!” Stroh said.

“I represent some of your victims, mate.”

He sneered. “What victims? I haven’t been convicted of any crime. Considering the people’s top witnesses, I like my odds.”

“I don’t. Know why?” Spike punched him in the head. It made a satisfying CRACK! against the wall. “Your intimidation isn’t going to work anymore.”

Stroh raised his hand to rub the back of his head, then the front of it. “I haven’t intimidated anyone. And I’m not responsible for my clients’ actions.” He smirked. “I can’t be if I’m in here.”

Spike punched him in the ribs. The crack sounded like he broke one or two. Good. “What about the letters then?”

Stroh groaned and held his side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This sounds like another pathetic play by the Major Crimes division. I had hoped they’d straighten out their act after Chief Johnson...left, but I guess the good Captain Raydor is no better.” 

Spike showed Stroh his game face. “Wanna try again?” 

“What are you?”

 _Finally, fear_. Spike grinned, his fangs displayed...prominently. “A predator like you. And just so you know, I like to play with my food.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The same as you. Sport.”

Spike kicked him in the side. Hard. 

“I’ll do whatever you want!”

Spike made no response except to kick him again, and again. When the howls of pain reached the perfect frequency, Spike lowered his head toward Stroh’s. “I need a name.”

Stroh groaned, but he gave Spike what he wanted - a name. The true name; Stroh was beyond the point where he could lie anymore. 

Spike held Stroh’s head, as he lowered his mouth toward Stroh’s jugular. “Please, no!” Stroh’s cry was at the octave Spike was waiting for.

Spike stood up and shook his head. “You know, you aren’t even fit to be fodder.” 

Spike delivered a final kick to Stroh’s sternum, knowing his boot would leave the optimal bruise. Then he walked out of the cell, leaving the bent bars as they were. It wasn’t like the bugger would be walking anytime soon.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

As he neared the apartment complex, it began raining. He walked faster, but lifted his face and let his hands touch the drops as they fell around him. It seemed…cleansing somehow. 

He reached the building, and Illyria jumped in front of him. “Your masters are asleep. Safe.”

“How do you know they’re asleep?”

She looked at him like he had two heads. “I peeked through their windows, of course.”

Meaning she’d scaled the building, probably looking in every window until she found the apartment in question. He shook his head. At least the bird took her task seriously. Either that or she was bored. It was good she hadn’t accompanied him to the jail, or Stroh would be in much worse shape, possibly even dead. “Thanks, Smurf. If you speak to Angel, tell him I owe him.”

She raised her brow in that way of hers. “You never speak of Angel like this.”

“Yeah, well, he came through for me. Even I can admit that.” 

She nodded slightly. “And our arrangement?”

“Give me a few more days with them. Then we’ll go off looking for adventure.”

The blue bird wasn’t one to smile, but he swore there was a hint of _Fred_ in her expression, the delighted smile she used to wear when they made a crack in a case - or anytime Wesley was around. The god was clearly pleased. “And we can deal death to the wicked?”

He grinned. “I know you like that part.”

“Your terms are acceptable, pet.”

Then she was...gone. He shook his head and stepped inside the building. 

The doorman paid him no mind, so Spike entered the lift and rode up to Sharon’s floor. He unlocked her door, stepped inside, and relocked it. Illyria was right: They were sound asleep. Good. 

He crept into Sharon’s bedroom, draped his duster over the chest, pulled off his jeans, folded them and placed them on top of the coat. He pulled back the sheet and climbed in behind her. He kissed her hair and pulled her close. In her sleep, she snuggled closer against him. “Where were you?” She asked in a heavy voice. 

The snore that followed said that wasn’t the best time for their conversation. “I’ll tell you later, luv. Promise.” 

“G’night, Spike,” she said. Then she pulled his arms tighter around her and held onto them, effectively trapping him. Not that he had any intention of leaving. He nestled his head against her neck and slept, trying to forget about Stroh - and the sounds of his bones cracking.


	7. Chapter 7

Sharon woke to see Spike’s face inches from hers. His eyes were closed, but he rumbled a good morning. “Where’d you go last night?” she asked.

He opened his eyes, but he wouldn’t meet hers. “I had to check on something.”

He had trusted her with the truth before, as terrifying as it was. What could he have done that he didn’t want her to know?

He met her eyes again. “I’ll tell you when the time is right, luv. I promise.”

That sounded...familiar. Had she asked him last night? Perhaps. All that mattered was Spike would be honest with her...once he had time to process..everything. That was reasonable. Fair. “I believe you will.” She hmmed. “I could get used to your...abilities.”

He grinned. “Not everyone likes it.”

“I do. Takes all the guess work out of it.”

He stroked her hair. “I don’t know, luv. You’re still a mystery to me.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah. I have no idea why you like me. Or why you put up with those blokes at work. Or why you smell so...good. I’m just glad you’re you.”

She kissed him. “You’re sweet.”

He held her tight and then he released her. “I know you gotta go.”

She was reluctant to leave his arms. “I really do.”

She pulled away and crawled out of bed to get her day started.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She was leaving a bit later than usual since Spike had offered to drive Rusty to school. She typically enjoyed the morning drive with Rusty, especially when he was in a good mood, but she could give the boys some additional bonding time that morning. So she settled for kissing Rusty’s forehead after he handed her a cup of coffee for the ride to work. She told him to be safe and kind that day, and he promised he would. She glanced around her apartment once more; everything was in order. She repeated her goodbye to Rusty and walked out the door.

When she stepped into the murder room, Andrea Hobbs was there, laughing over something with Lieutenants Flynn and Provenza. They turned to look at Sharon and stopped. That seemed...ominous, but she knew DDA Hobbs well enough to trust she wasn’t the subject of the discussion. Andrea took her leave from the two gentlemen and walked toward Sharon.

“Good morning, Counselor,” Sharon said with a smile.

“Good morning, Captain. Do you have a minute?”

Sharon confirmed that she was free for the time being and led Andrea to her office. They sat at the desk. “What’s on your mind, Andrea?” She paused. “Is there a problem with one of our cases?”

Andrea shook her head. “No problems. As much as DDA Rios likes to claim otherwise--” Sharon snorted, and Andrea continued, “your team does solid work. No, this is about something else.”

“You’re not going to drop another bomb about Rusty, are you?”

Andrea smiled reassuringly. “Oh, no. He’s firmly in your care.” She sighed. “This has to do with Stroh.”

Sharon groaned. “And what is it?”

“He was...attacked in his cell. Late last night.”

“Another prisoner?”

Andrea shook her head. “Someone broke in. Bent the bars somehow and dealt some serious damage to Stroh: several broken ribs, bruising, possible head trauma.” She paused. “I just wanted you to know. This has nothing to do with your division, obviously.”

Sharon nodded. “Will this impact the case at all?”

“Let’s let DDA Rios worry about that.”

In spite of herself Sharon cracked a small smile. Then she adopted her stoic Captain Raydor mask. “And how is Mr. Stroh?”

“Not well. Aside from the beating he took, he’s being tested for shock or PTSD.”

“Oh, why?”

Andrea shook her head. “He claims a vampire attacked him.”

Oh. Sharon schooled her expression carefully. “A vampire? Really? That’s...original.”

“We’ll just have to hope he’s found competent enough to stand trial.” Andrea reached across the desk to pat Sharon’s hand. “You’ve been such a trooper about this. It’ll be over soon, and then Rusty will be free. And you.”

“Yes, I think we all look forward to that day.”

“How is Rusty?”

Sharon smiled. “He’s good. We’re working through things together. Talking. He’s a wonderful young man, and I’m proud to know him.”

Andrea nodded. “He’s in good hands with you, Sharon.” She sighed. “Well, I should be going. Although I dread returning to the office. Emma is probably still shrieking.”

Sharon tilted her head to one side. “I believe I’m familiar with that sound. You have my sympathies. And you know you’re always welcome to hide here.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” Andrea stood up. She shook her head. “A vampire. I never thought Stroh would be delusional.”

Sharon hmmed. “I suppose if the attack was brutal enough. I can’t say I feel bad for the man, but…”

“Yeah.” Andrea nodded her understanding. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Andrea exited the office, leaving Sharon to her thoughts. She groaned. It had to have been Spike. Even if another vampire could have attacked the man, only Spike would leave him alive. Well, she supposed Angel would as well, but only Spike had a motive to go after him. The timing was right, as was the way he’d acted that morning. The attack had been brutal, but that wasn’t what unsettled her. Nor were Spike’s actions. It was...she didn’t know how to feel. If he were a police officer, she’d be on him for excessive force and countless other infractions. She’d do her job, prevent yet another lawsuit and feel good about it. But she wasn’t in IA anymore. Stroh wasn’t her problem, except that he was because he was Rusty’s problem. And Spike wasn’t subject to her code. And yes, a part of her was almost...glad. That was probably the most unsettling.

She shook her head and glanced down at her files. These were cases she and her team could solve. She would deal with...the Stroh problem later.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

She headed home after stopping at the butcher for more blood. If the man was surprised to see her two nights in a row, he gave no indication. He was probably happy to do the business. He stored it in a container for her and placed it in a bag. He handed it to her with a smile, which she returned as she left the shop. Spike was at home waiting for her, and they needed to talk.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

He knew he was in trouble as soon as she walked in. She wasn’t as angry as he would have expected, but they’d need to talk. Rusty had no inkling that anything was amiss. He kissed his mother hello and told her about his day. She said little about hers except that it had been...interesting. She looked right at Spike as she said it. He nodded to show her the message was received.

Rusty went to his room after saying goodnight to them. Spike looked her in the eye. “How’d you find out?”

She sat next to him at the dining room table, placing his blood in front of him. “One of my colleagues from the DA’s office told me. Apparently, he’s ‘delusional’ enough to claim a vampire attacked him.”

“You know why, though, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do.”

“But you can’t condone it.”

“Of course I can’t!” She sighed heavily. “I used to investigate the slightest hint of excessive force. I’ve had my own officers arrested for less, do you understand? ”

He put up his hand. He needed to say his piece. She hadn’t raised her voice, but it was still...dangerous. “I’m not one of your coppers, luv. It can’t come back to you at all. If I’d thought for a second it could, I wouldn’t have--”

“I know.”

She did know. And she still trusted him. He could smell her conflicting feelings. “I’m not sorry for hurting him, but I am sorry that I had to, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” She gazed into his eyes. “Your soul--”

“Frees me to make my own decisions just like any other bloke. And sometimes, I make bad ones. This, however, wasn’t one of them.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “I got what I wanted out of him.”

“The name of the _writer_.”

He nodded.

Several emotions flickered across her face. He knew what they were, but she needed to come to her own decisions. He’d said what he wanted to. She’d said her piece. They’d work any other frustrations out in the bedroom and go from there.

She schooled her features. “All right. Why don’t we eat?”

He followed her into the kitchen with his bag of blood. She was slumped over slightly. It wasn’t something the average person would notice, but he did. He placed the bag on the counter by the microwave and moved to stroke her back. She didn’t recoil from his touch, so that was a good sign. “What is it, luv? I mean aside from that bastard’s current condition.”

She sighed. “We caught another case. It’s always tougher when it’s a kid.”

He hugged her from behind, and she leaned into him. “I’m sorry, luv. You wanna talk about it?”

“No. I just...want to forget about it for awhile.”

He held her tighter. “I can help with that.”

She covered his hands with hers. “You already are.”

He released her so she could reheat her platter - the lasagna Rusty had made. He took his turn at the microwave, and they returned to the dining room to eat. They had dinner in silence, but there was little anger in her. In fact, he wished she had some of that fire. When she finished eating, he took her plate and his mug and loaded the dishwasher. Then he stood in front of her chair, gazing down into her eyes. “Let’s go to bed, pet.”

She took his hand, as he pulled her up and led her to the master bedroom. Once inside, she followed him into the bathroom, where he gently undressed her and helped her into her robe. They brushed their teeth, and she didn’t even seem to notice that he had no reflection, but then she said it was a pity he couldn’t see himself. He held her. “I’d rather see myself through your eyes, luv.”

She stroked his cheek. “It is quite a sight.”

He released her, removed his duster and jeans and hung them on the rack by the shower. “Ready?”

She hmmed in the affirmative, and they entered the bedroom. She pulled back the covers and climbed in, and he spooned behind her, nuzzling against her neck.

She leaned back against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Tight.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” she asked, her voice already heavy.

“No, luv. You’re stuck with me.”

Her little moan said she was pleased. “I can’t say you did the right thing,” she said after a moment.

“I know.”

“But I...appreciate it. I...I know it was for me--”

“Actually, it was for Rusty, but you factored into it too.”

She turned in his arms, her eyes wide open. “Maybe we have more in common than I realized.”

Perhaps she would stop at wishing Stroh ill, whereas he would act on it, but the reason was the same: love. He nodded. “I see a bit of myself in him. And besides, what’s not to love?”

“He’s lucky...we both are...to have you.”

He kissed her, and she snuggled against him as he kissed along her jaw. She moaned. “You want me.”

He chuckled. “Well, yeah, luv. But I can just...hold you if you like.”

“I did say I wanted to forget.”

Yes, she did. And he could be quite good for that. “What do you need?”

“Let’s start with this...robe.”

He untied the sash and opened it, as she freed her arms from the sleeves. She tossed it near the bedside table. He pulled her close, rubbing along her back and spine. The day had taken a toll on her; he could feel it in her muscles. “Lie on your stomach, luv.”

She shot him a quick look of surprise before complying.

“Trust me, luv.” He straddled her hips and started by gently running his fingertips along her spine. Slowly and in tight circles. He used both hands. “How’s that?”

She moaned and said something that sounded like ‘wonderful’ though it was muffled against the pillow.

He added a bit more pressure, and her moans increased. After a while, he focused on her upper back and shoulders. That was smart because her muscles seemed to...melt under his touch.

When he was satisfied he’d done her some good, he leaned down and kissed her neck. She arched against him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, luv.”

He lay down beside her, and she curled up against his side.

“Feel better?”

“Much.” She looked into his eyes. “How’d you know?”

“I felt it in your muscles.” He stroked her hair. “You carry a lot of burdens, luv. I wanted to lighten the load.”

She kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man, Spike. Whatever else you are, I’ll always remember that.”

He pulled her closer. Maybe he’d never be a real boy, but it was good to know she saw him that way. “My Blue Fairy.” He kissed her neck, and she moaned.

“Make love to me.”

He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He pushed her onto her back, and he lowered himself on top of her. She reached for his boxers, but he held her hands back. “This is about you for now, pet.”

He kissed along her collarbone, her shoulders. Her body...spasmed when his lips touched her right shoulder. He bit that spot, and she groaned her pleasure. She was ready. He met her eyes. “I can’t hold back anymore, luv.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle. “Take me.”

He yanked off his boxers and tossed them...somewhere. She pulled at his shirt, and he helped her with the rest of it. He hovered over her. The final question in his eyes. Her nod and plea told him all he needed to know. He lowered onto her, thrusting inside. She held him tightly against her, but she didn’t scratch like before. It was more...keeping the connection. She rose to meet him thrust for thrust.

She was getting close going by the frequency of her moans and yeses. He reached down between them and rubbed her clit in smooth circles, and when she was reaching the critical moment, he bit down on her shoulder. The force of her orgasm sent him over the edge and he spilled into her.

He collapsed by her side, and she snuggled against him. “You’re so good to me.”

“You make it easy, luv. You make a bloke want to be the best he can be.” He stroked her hair. “I’ll go get something to clean us up.”

She sat up. “No, Spike. You’ve done...so much for me. Let me.”

His heart lurched, but he nodded. She climbed out of the bed and went into the bathroom, making no attempt to cover herself. They’d come so far since their first meeting.

She returned with the cloth. She used it first, running it along her inner thighs into her core. He purred at the sight. “You’re giving me ideas, luv.”

“I like your ideas.”

She continued rubbing the cloth against her, much longer than necessary. She handed it to him, and he cleaned up much more quickly, then returned it to the sink. Then he climbed into bed, and she spooned against him. He pulled the bedclothes on top of them and kissed her forehead.

She held his arms after he wrapped them around her. Her breathing was becoming steady again, slow. She would fall asleep soon. “What should I do?” she asked.

“You have to do what you can live with, luv. But let me ask you this, what’s the best thing for him?”

She sighed. “Putting your information to use.”

He kissed her hair. “I know that won’t be easy for you.”

She hmmed. “I suppose if you called in an anonymous tip to my division. Then it’ll be up to them to investigate. No link to you or...Stroh.”

“Okay. Tell me what to say. Tomorrow.” He kissed her neck. “Right now, you need to sleep.”

She hmmed in pleasure and snuggled closer against him. He observed her slight movements as she fell asleep--wanting to remember them for...later. Then he joined her.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

There’d been tension in the room when Sharon had gotten home. Rusty had been around enough of that in his life to be sensitive to it. She wasn’t mad at him. If she were, she would have said so - she always did. It seemed like she was mad at Spike, but he had no idea why.

He listened to them from his bedroom, but he couldn’t hear anything. So, maybe it wasn’t so bad. He turned on his ipod and laid down on his bed. Before falling asleep, he decided to talk to Spike about it.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Whatever was wrong, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. As much as he didn’t want to think of Sharon doing things with anyone, he was glad she and Spike had worked out their...problem. If only because he didn’t want there to be much stress in the apartment. Sharon’s condo was like his...sanctuary, or whatever. It was the one place he felt safe, even in light of the letters. He suspected Sharon wanted to maintain that...peace in their home as much as he.

Spike and Sharon were sitting in the dining room. They each had a coffee mug, and Spike had his hand over hers on the table. It was...nice. Sharon smiled over at him, and he approached the table, wishing them a good morning. She said she had to go, that she had thought of a way to crack her case the night before. Spike quipped about being good for something, and she gave him a playful smack. Then she got up from the table, said Spike would bring him to school, and kissed his forehead before running off.

Rusty grinned as she left. She was really good at solving cases. It was interesting to watch her work when she didn’t think he was paying attention. That killer didn’t stand a chance.

Then he went into the kitchen for his coffee, remembering to unplug the coffee maker. Sharon was terrified of it staying plugged in, even though the machine automatically turned off after two hours. It was just one of her quirks, and he could live with it easily enough.

He fixed his coffee and sat across from Spike. They still had a few minutes before they had to leave. “Spike, um, can I ask you something?”

Spike grinned at him. “You just did, kid.” Then he became earnest. “Ask away. I haven’t lied to you yet.”

That was true. Spike was probably the most honest...person he’d ever met. “Okay. Last night when Sharon came home--”

“You sensed it, didn’t you?”

Rusty nodded. “I’m kind of used to sniffing that stuff out.”

Spike snorted. “Yeah, me too.” His expression turned serious, but not too serious. “We had a difference in opinion, I guess you could say. I did something she didn’t like, and she wasn’t sure what to do with the...results.”

“What’dya do?”

Spike gazed into his eyes. “I paid Stroh a visit in his cell.”

“Did you…”

“He’ll live. Just not very comfortably for a while.”

Rusty nodded. He knew why Sharon had been upset then: She didn’t like violence. He still remembered how angry she’d been when he’d put those boys in the infirmary. But this wasn’t a group of boys. This was Stroh, a rapist and murderer. “Good,” was all he said, but it was enough.

Spike nodded. “Well, let’s get you to school.”


	8. Chapter 8

Spike sat parked in front of the school after dropping Rusty off. Nothing appeared amiss, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the hotline like Sharon had suggested. The operator answered, and he asked to speak to the lead detective in the Stroh case. He was transferred to the Major Crimes division, just like Sharon had said would happen. 

“Lieutenant Flynn speaking, may I help you?” 

The bloke sounded nice enough. Sharon seemed to think highly of him anyway. He filed that detail away for later. “Yes, I have some information that’s connected to Phillip Stroh.”

“I’m listening.” 

And he was. Intently. Good. He gave the copper the name and hung up after being thanked for doing his civic duty or some such bollocks. He hoped that was the right play because he didn’t want anything to escalate before…

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Flynn knocked on Sharon’s office door. “Captain, you got a minute?”

She nodded. “Of course, come in.”

The murder room was quiet because she had sent much of her team out to chase down a lead. It was the perfect time for a side investigation to come up.

Flynn sat across from her. “Just got an anonymous tip connected to Stroh.” 

She nodded. Feigned surprise in the slight movement of her head and the widening of her eyes. 

“I gotta tell you, Captain, I have a strange feeling about this one. Seems so soon after the bastard was attacked, and the investigation is pretty much closed.”

“Excellent points, Lieutenant. So what was the tip?”

Flynn shrugged. “He gave us a name. I ran it, and there are no priors, nothing obviously connecting them.”

She nodded. “And what do you suggest we do with this information?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Well, it’s our duty to take tips like this seriously, right?” She hmmed in the affirmative, and he continued, “Since you sent my partner out already, are you up for a quick drive?”

She smiled. “Of course, Lieutenant.” 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rusty burst into the car, closing the door quickly to keep the sunlight to a minimum. Spike nodded his thanks. Avoiding smoking up was always a plus, especially after a day-long stake-out. “How was school?”

“Okay. I talked to Kris.”

“Oh, yeah? How’d it go?”

Rusty groaned. “Well, she didn’t cry, and she didn’t hit me. But I know I hurt her.”

“She’ll thank you in the long run.”

Rusty nodded. “And now she can go after someone who can...you know...be what she needs.” He turned to Spike. “About Stroh--”

“The Major Crimes division is making use of my information as we speak.”

“Really? You got Sharon to go for that?”

“Well, it took some coaxing, but she agreed it was what was best for you.”

“I can’t believe she broke a rule for me.”

Spike made a left turn. “She didn’t technically break any rules, but yeah, she went out of her comfort zone.”

Rusty nodded. “I just...I wanted to, uh, say thanks. I know Sharon wouldn’t want me to say this, but he deserved whatever you did.”

Spike nodded. His actions - right or wrong - had consequences for all of them, but he believed the good outweighed the negative in this case. “You’re welcome, kid.” 

They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they got home, Rusty hurried to finish his homework, and then he went on his computer to play chess, as Spike watched. “You ever play?” Rusty asked. 

Spike shook his head. “I’m not patient enough, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, that makes sense, I guess.”

Spike shrugged. “Even in fights against the big bad, I go against my own plans when I get bored.” 

Rusty laughed. “I guess you still win.”

“Being nearly indestructible has its perks.”

Spike left Rusty to his game and pulled out his phone. He suspected Sharon was busy, so a quick text to check in would suffice. “Kid’s fine. R home. How r u?”

Then he sat on the couch for a quick snooze. He was supposed to be a day sleeper, after all. 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Sharon felt her phone vibrate against her hip. The timing was about right. She looked at it and smiled. She typed a quick reply. “Good. I’m fine. About to crack the case, I think. :) See you two tonight.”

Andy was driving, but her movements must have caught his attention because he asked, “Is that your friend?”

He was very...curious about him, but supportive, too. It was comforting to discover Andy was a friend to her. It was almost like old times. “Yeah, he’s with Rusty. They’re probably playing poker as we speak.” 

“And Rusty, is he...okay?”

“He’s blossoming. I just wish…”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get him Sharon, and then Rusty will look that bastard Stroh in the eye and tell the world exactly who and what he is.”

She nodded. “Thanks, Andy. I have a feeling we’re getting close.”

He grinned before returning his focus to his driving. “You always did have a sixth sense for these things. I guess that’s why you were so...dangerous in IA.”

“I kept you on the force, didn’t I?”

“Why is that, by the way?”

She hmmed. “You had an edge, yes, but your heart was with the victims - where it belonged.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for the vote of confidence all those times.”

“You know, I used to wonder when your file kept ending up on my desk. You must have known I would be investigating you each time.”

“So? What’s your point?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was your way of keeping in touch.”

He chuckled. “Maybe it was, Captain. In hindsight, it probably would have been easier to just ask you to coffee.”

She laughed. “Probably.” 

He pulled up in front of a building. “Ready?”

She patted her pockets, double checking for her gun and badge. “Yeah, let’s go.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She rang the doorbell, confident with Andy next to her. A man answered. Sharon held back her shudder, but she _knew_ this was it - even without Spike’s intel. She waved her badge, introduced herself and Andy and explained they were following up on the Phillip Stroh case and wanted to ask a few questions. She spoke in her calm appeasing voice and then asked if they could come inside for a minute.

The perp stepped aside so they could enter. At the mention of Stroh’s name, he showed signs of nervousness. It was time to push some buttons, and there was no one better than the man standing beside her. She glanced at Andy ever so slightly, and he nodded with his eyes, as much as that was possible. They walked up the front step, with Andy gesturing that he would go first, as he should according to protocol. She followed him inside. Andy was on a roll, so she let him go. “So how do you know Stroh? You a friend of his?” 

The man shook his head. “Why would I know Stroh? I’ve never needed a lawyer. Never been in any trouble. I certainly never heard of him before he was arrested.”

“Oh, really? Well, how come your name came up in the process of our investigation?”

The man’s hand shook slightly at his side. “I don’t know.”

“You and Stroh ever share a girl? I know he was into that.”

“That’s...disgusting! Please leave my house.”

 _Bingo,_ Sharon thought. 

It seemed like Andy knew it was working too, as he said, “Would if we could, but another victim came forward this morning.”

The man’s eyes widened. They had him.

“Am I under arrest?”

Andy shook his head. “You’re a person of interest. At least until the kit comes back.”

They were on thin ice, but it was worth the risk, and this guy was either not very bright or simply breaking under the strain. 

“Do I need my attorney?” 

Andy nodded. “Couldn’t hurt. I’m afraid you’ll need a new lawyer, though. Yours is out of commission.” Andy sneered. “You see, pieces of crap like you and him aren’t even safe inside of an isolated cell, and you--” He pointed at the man’s bulging stomach. “You wouldn’t get a private cell. You’d be in genpop. I wonder how long you’d last there.”

Time for the good cop. “Now, now, Lieutenant. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as all that. We are authorized to make some deals,” Sharon said.

“Deal?”

Sharon nodded. “Yes, my division has been working with the DA’s office to reduce sentencing in exchange for information and confessions.” She grinned. “It’s been going quite well.”

He paled even more. “If you excuse me, I’ll just call my...other attorney.”

He went into what looked like his home office. She glanced at Andy. He nodded. They’d be finished with him soon. 

He returned, looking calmer. “I don’t have to answer any questions unless you place me under arrest, so I’ll ask you to leave.”

Sharon nodded. “Of course. I just ask that you sign a document for us. It says that you understand you’re a person of interest and agree not to leave town.” She pulled the dummied-up form out of her bag and handed it to him. “You have no idea how much paperwork I have to sift through on this job,” she said with a sigh. 

He nodded and read through it. She asked him to sign next to the ‘X’ and print his name underneath. Then she took the form, gave him a grateful smile and said they’d get out of his hair and that he should have a nice day. 

Then she and Andy exited through the front door. 

“Nice move, Cap,” he said when they got to the car. “Why do we need his handwriting, though?”

“I have a feeling we just found the letter writer, Andy.” She grinned. “And that was...inspired. And after seeing that, I’m surprised I didn’t have to investigate you even more often.” 

He shrugged sheepishly. “The truly guilty ones don’t usually complain. And I didn’t lay a hand on him.”

She nodded and said they should confirm their find. 

He grinned. “We should get you out here more often, Sharon.”

“Why thank you, Andy, but that’s why I have such talented detectives working for me, so I can do paperwork.”

He chuckled and started the car. She rested her head against the seat. If she were right, Rusty’s life would be much less complicated soon, and hers too. 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The handwriting turned out to be an exact match. The question was what to do with the evidence. Although he had all but confessed to rape, they didn’t have any actual witnesses. Sharon presented the information to her team. Sanchez was the first to speak up. “Ma’am, I say we arrest the scumbag; we don’t have to charge him with anything. I’ll have him singing in a few minutes. Then you can use his written confession as evidence.”

The rest of the team nodded. 

She looked at Sanchez and Sykes. “All right, go get him.”

They darted from their desks, and Sharon returned to her office. After a minute, Flynn entered. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I just...I don’t want him getting off on any technicality.”

“With you in charge, that’s unlikely.” He sat down and grinned. “And two cases at once, that’s a record for us, Captain.”

“Well, we are a very effective team. I’m proud to be a part of it.”

He took his leave, and she returned to her paperwork, as she waited for the next step. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

She was in her office packing up for the day when Flynn walked in. He was grinning. “You did it, Sharon.” 

She wiped her tears. “ _We_ did.”

He rushed over to her. “Hey, what’s with the tears? This is…”

She cried a bit more, but there was some laughter underneath. “I’m...just...so relieved it’s over.”

He put his arms around her in a hug. “It’s over. It’s really over.”

She rested her head against his chest. His steady heartbeat - which they were looking after more of late - was a comforting sound against her ear. 

He kissed the top of her head. “Come on, I’ll take you home. I have a feeling Rusty and your, uh, friend will want to hear the good news.”

She hmmed in the affirmative and pulled back from his embrace. “Thanks, Andy.”

He grinned sheepishly. “That’s what I’m here for, Captain.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

The copper - Flynn, he thought Sharon had said - escorted her home in the aftermath of all the excitement. She had texted Spike confirmation that his “tip” had been correct. Good. 

Flynn was...handsome, Spike wasn’t afraid to admit, and he looked at Sharon with adoration when she wasn’t paying attention. The bloke seemed nice enough, and she was comfortable around him. Judging by the kid’s reaction when they walked in, Rusty liked him too. 

The man stepped in front of Spike, offering his hand to shake. “You must be Spike. I’m glad you were here for them.”

Spike took the offered hand and shook it. “Me too.” _And thank you for being here after I leave._

Flynn nodded. Then he looked between Sharon, Rusty, and Spike. He smiled. “Well, I should be going.” He winked at Sharon. “My boss is an absolute bear when it comes to paperwork.”

Sharon laughed. “You know me, I’m used to closing cases in 72 hours.”

Flynn scoffed mockingly. “Well, some of us don’t have super powers.” He grinned. “Have a good evening. It was good to meet you, Spike.”

Spike nodded. “You too, mate.”

Flynn left the apartment, and Sharon pulled Rusty in for a tight hug. “It’s over, honey. We got him.”

Rusty hugged her tighter, the relief evident in his essence. Sharon released him and turned to Spike. “Thank you,” she said before hugging him. That was a big deal for her, as she’d had such strong reservations. 

He held her. “No problem, luv.” He pulled back and ruffled Rusty’s hair. “Why don’t we celebrate?”

Rusty grinned at them both. “Burgers?”

She giggled. “Somehow, I just knew you were gonna say that.”

Rusty shrugged. 

“Well, I could go for a burger and onion rings - there have to be onion rings,” Spike said. Onion rings were one of the few things he could still “taste,” perhaps because of how they were made. 

“I know just the place,” Rusty said.

She nodded. “He knows all the best burger places.”

They had probably visited all of them together. Likely her way of making the kid feel...normal. Giving him the home he craved so badly. 

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Spike said. 

She stroked his cheek. “Just let me...change clothes.”

She needed to remove the evidence of the day, the evil she’d seen. He nodded and Sharon disappeared in the direction of her bedroom. 

As he and Rusty stood in the foyer waiting, he noticed a gleam in Rusty’s eye. “I wonder if she’ll let me drive.”

Spike hoped Rusty was a capable driver because there was only so much he could protect them from, but he suspected it was Sharon who had taught him, which was comforting. “You miss driving?”

“Yeah, I was just getting good, when these stupid letters started. Then it was like...I was grounded because of bad men.”

Spike laid a hand on Rusty’s shoulder. “It’s over, kid. I doubt Sharon will ever stop protecting you, but--”

“You can certainly drive again,” Sharon interrupted. She had entered the room before Spike could fully register her presence.

“Really? Oh, that’s so great, Sharon!” Rusty launched into her arms in a big hug. 

She kissed the top of his head. “But you remember the rules, you call or text me when you get to each place.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Any annoyance in his tone was pretence. “So can I drive tonight?”

She pulled his keys out of her purse and handed them to him. He darted to the door to start the car, or something. She smiled fondly as he ran out into the hallway. She took Spike’s hand. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“So, am I forgiven?” Spike asked. 

She rolled over to face him and stroked his face. “It was never my place to forgive you. But, yes, I understand and appreciate what you did.”

He held her hand against his mouth and kissed her fingers, before releasing her hand. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

She sighed and snuggled closer against him. “You have to leave us.” She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. “I understand that too, Spike.” She kissed his earlobe before whispering, “My wandering champion.”

“And Rusty, will he…”

“He understands much more than I sometimes think he does. He’ll be sad to see you leave - just like I’ll be - but he’ll know.” She smiled at him, gazing into his eyes. “It’s your calling, he’ll get that.”

“My calling.” He grinned. “That makes me sound like a white hat.”

She giggled. “Too much?”

“No, I like it.” He stroked her face. “I like that you think of me that way.” But then his eyes twinkled, in a decidedly devious way. “But I’d like to be the big bad for you one last time.”

She moaned, and that time it was like a purr, even if it wasn’t as pronounced as Spike’s. 

He kissed and nipped her neck, suckling her pulse point, and she held him there. There was something _powerful_ about having him so close, knowing it was only his soul and his determination to be good that kept him from using his fangs. Had his other lovers felt like that? Or perhaps she was his first since his...redemption. She very much liked that idea. “Oh, Spike.”

He pulled away from her neck and gazed into her eyes. “You really see me, luv. I’m gonna miss that.”

A tear started to fall down her cheek, but he wiped it away. It was one of those little things he did that meant so much. She grinned. “Thought you were gonna be my big bad.”

He chuckled. “We’ll get back to that right now.” He fingered her nightshirt. “Starting with this.”

He opened it, one button at a time. When he finally reached the bottom, he pulled the sleeves from her arms and tossed it on the floor. No laundry service that time. Instead, he dove between her breasts, which was better, but something was...missing. “I need--”

He looked up from her chest. “Got ya, love.”

He lifted his t-shirt and threw it on the floor. Then he kissed her, making love to her mouth. She held him against her - his cold chest felt so good on her warm one. 

He reached between them, kneading her breasts before moving his hands to the hem of her sleep pants. He leaned back, kneeling between her legs, and pulled down her pants, taking her panties with them. He lowered his head. “Gotta savour this taste once more,” he said before nipping and kissing her inner thighs. 

His little bites caused a delicious blend of pain and pleasure she had no idea she had been craving. It was something only Spike had ever done for her. She knew it would be a request of hers with all future partners, but she doubted anyone could ever have Spike’s...talents.

“God, Spike. So good.”

She was close, and she knew he knew it because he flashed her that cocky grin she had grown to adore and started licking her clit. She pushed against the mattress with both hands as she came. Hard.

Then she growled at him. “Pants. Off. Now.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He quickly tugged the zip down and yanked off his pants and boxers. Her low growl was so sexy he almost forgot _he_ was supposed to be the big bad. She purred at the sight of him, and he covered her body with his. “Ready for me, pet?”

“God, yes. Please.”

He didn’t even bother with a quip about God. He just reveled in the sight of the woman beneath him. The power they had over each other. He guided his cock, thrusting into her quickly, easily, as she moaned with the pleasure, the sensation of being filled. He claimed her mouth, wanting to taste her, engulf her in pleasure. 

The kisses were so long. They were really just one continuous kiss. But then he remembered she needed to breathe, so he pulled back, watching her take gasps for air. He worried he had waited too long, but then she grabbed his head and smashed his mouth to hers. Any concern disappeared, as his tigress took control. 

He thrust in and out, pounding her into the bed; she wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into his ass. Those beautiful, powerful legs. He’d have memories of those legs for decades to come. 

He broke their kiss and lowered his head to her breasts again. He nipped, kissed, and licked around the nipples, knowing just how to maximize her pleasure.

She came apart beneath him, and he followed her.

Then he fell on the bed beside her. He kissed her neck. “I -”

She put her finger to his mouth. “Don’t, Spike.” Then she pulled him in for a tight hug. “I know. Me too.”

She was remarkable, sparing them any further pain as best she could. He had always gotten off on pain as part of his demonic nature, but this would be different. He stroked the glorious hair that had fallen in all directions. 

Then he went about cleaning them up so he could enjoy a sound sleep snuggled in her arms one last time. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Sharon woke up with Spike’s arms around her in a protective hold. She broke free just enough to turn toward him, to stroke his face one last time. 

“You sure know how to wake a bloke up, luv.”

“It is nice, isn’t it?” 

He held her hand against his face, stroking her hand lightly with his fingertips. Then he got out of bed. “I’ll put the coffee on.”

She sat up, retrieved her robe from her bedside table and put it on before climbing out. She padded into the kitchen. 

Rusty was sitting at the table with Spike. She heard the coffee perking and sat with her boys. 

Spike looked Rusty in the eye. “Listen, kid--”

“I know you have to go,” Rusty said. “It’s okay, dude. I mean we’ll miss you, but you do good things for people.” Rusty looked a bit more pleadingly. “Will you visit us sometimes?”

Spike nodded. “When I can. But,” he looked between her and Rusty and continued, “I think you two will be just fine.” He handed Rusty a piece of paper. “You ever need to contact me, need help of any kind, this is how. Okay?” He winked at Sharon. 

Rusty nodded. “Thanks, dude. I’ll put this in a safe place. What about Sharon?”

“I’ll give her one too.”

Maybe he would, but she _knew_ he wouldn’t need to. They were connected somehow. 

Rusty got up from the table and headed to his room. Spike glanced at her. “You ever think about what he’ll do? When he grows up, I mean?”

She giggled. “Only every day.”

He nodded. “He has so much potential. I have some connections. People who might be interested in working with him.”

“Doing what you do?”

He shook his head. “Research, recon. There could be an occasional skirmish, but they use the slayers and other warriors for most of the grunt work.”

She nodded. “Something to think about.”

“Not much money in it, of course, but he’d travel the world, see things he couldn’t have imagined.”

It was a possibility, for sure. One Rusty would probably enjoy. And she would be proud of him, but that would be true regarding anything he chose to do. “He’ll be 18 soon. Maybe visit with one of your...connections sometime, and well, we’ll see what happens.”

“What happens when?” Rusty asked, having returned from his room. 

“What happens when you need to start filling out all those college applications,” Spike said.

Rusty rolled his eyes. “College, really? I’m going to be a witness at a murder trial for the rest of my life.”

Spike and Sharon just laughed. “See what I have to put up with?” She asked. 

“Hey! You aren’t easy to live with either, Sharon.” 

While it was a true statement, and they had certainly had their difficulties adjusting, there was nothing but affection in Rusty’s eyes.

Spike grinned at them. “I should go. Before I don’t.”

“You sure you don’t want to wait until dark?” Rusty asked.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Angel’s car will keep me pretty safe.”

Rusty’s eyes widened. “You mean you stole it from him?”

Spike shrugged. “That’s kind of our thing.”

She and Rusty walked Spike to the front door. Rusty threw his arms around Spike in a hug, and Spike ruffled Rusty’s hair. “I’ll see you again, kid.”

Rusty let go, and Spike leaned toward Sharon, kissing her cheek. “I’ll miss you, luv.”

“Me too.”

He walked out of the door with a wave that was like a two-fingered salute. Rusty hugged her after Spike disappeared around the corner. She kissed his hair. “Ready for coffee? And how about some cheesy eggs?”

They returned to the kitchen and went about their Saturday morning routine. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

Illyria found him as soon as he started the car. She opened the door, refraining from pulling it off the hinges, for which he was very grateful. “Can we deal death to the wicked now?”

“Soon, pet.” She made her displeased sound, but he pressed on, “I have a pit stop first.”

He put the car in drive and headed for his destination. 

The house was easy enough to find, as he had tracked it. The man wore a unique cologne, which matched the scent that was _his_. He parked along the street. It was a cloudy day, and the sun was nowhere to be seen at the moment, so Spike made a run for it, after telling Illyria to wait in the car. 

He rang the doorbell. After a moment, Lieutenant Flynn answered. “Oh, hey, Spike, is it?” Spike nodded, and Flynn continued, “Is everything okay? Sharon…”

“She’s fine. The kid’s fine.” Spike looked him in the eye. “And I’m leaving town again. I just thought you should know.”

Flynn nodded, understanding dawning. He wasn’t just a pretty face then. Good. Sharon needed so much more from her future partner. “Maybe I should ask her to coffee then.”

“I’d say that’s a good start, mate.” Spike shifted on his toes a bit. This wasn’t his usual thing, but it was going okay. “I should go, now.”

He turned to walk away, but stopped when Flynn shouted. “I’ll take care of them.”

Spike nodded. “I know.”

He returned to the car, and Illyria asked, “Who was that man?”

“A friend of Sharon’s.”

Illyria nodded. “You gave him your blessing.”

Spike grunted. “I suppose you could call it that.”

They rode off in search of adventure and wickedness to smite. It was a good day for that. 

/////////////////////////////////////////////

The buzzer rang, and Rusty went to the intercom. “It’s Flynn, Sharon,” he called into the living room.

She had Rusty let him in, and her Lieutenant was standing in the middle of her carpet. “Good morning, Captain. I was wondering if you wanted to go for coffee.”

Rusty snickered before retreating to his bedroom, muttering something about practicing his chess.

Sharon laughed. “Well, we just had some, but I could go for a second cup. Why don’t you join me?”

He followed her to the dining room table. “This is a nice place, Sharon.”

She nodded. “We like it.”

She poured two cups of coffee, light and sweet the way they liked, and brought them to the table. “I’m glad you stopped by today, Andy,” she said after she sat down.

He reached across the table to pat her hand. “Me too.” He grinned. “Much easier than roughing up a perp.”

She laughed. “And much less paperwork for me.”


End file.
